


You didn't know

by bleedthrough



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Just needed to write this out, My First Fanfic, i'm depressed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-07-15 20:02:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 32,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7236502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleedthrough/pseuds/bleedthrough
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You didn't care before. Your lack of knowledge about her didn't concern you before, but you do now because you don't like this Root who's not pushy, this Root who doesn't wanna sit right next to you, and doesn't call you 'Sweetie' or 'Sameen.'</p><p>---</p><p>Root has a heart condition and Shaw doesn't know what to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic. I really don't know what I was writing until I have these words filling spaces in a document window so I thought I might as well post it here. Still heartbroken with what happened to Root, though.
> 
> Not expecting much out of this. Just sharing this story and being read is enough for me. So thanks for taking the time and reading this.

“See you later, Shaw” she said before exiting the subway station you call your base of operations. You won’t admit that you waited for her then, but that was before you knew _later_ would come six weeks after she left. And you don’t know if you’re just confused, or frustrated, or extremely disturbed, but you know you’re worried. A few days later after she just got back, she took off again without any word. Not to you or even Harold. You realize she doesn’t answer to either of you. She’s all by herself and she’s not so much a part of the team aside from the fact that she helps out whenever she can, and even occasionally save each of you whenever necessary. You just know she’s on your side.

You remember she called you _Shaw_ then, which was not unusual and you would’ve appreciated it had you not been used to her sweet voice and had you not noticed that something was off since she got back from the mission before she left, but you chalk it to the fact that she was also wounded. You saw the bloody, torn up shirt and even stitched the laceration.

But she called you _Shaw_ that day and it bothered you. Part of you sank at the thought that maybe she found someone else to call ‘Sweetie,’ or maybe she’s just no longer interested which, admittedly, is ridiculous thought. But you don’t know. You’ll never know. Because with Root, you never really know.

It’s not fear, you tell yourself, but at the back of your mind you consider the possibility that you’ve pushed her too much and far enough that she grew tired of chasing after you. Not when she’s also running all over the world with her dangerous missions without back up, of all things. Maybe that’s also why she didn’t bother to keep in touch. It’s not like she regularly calls you or sends you a message or anything. You’ve gone on much longer without contact and it didn’t bother you before. You feel like you should be mad that you’ve allowed yourself to expect.

But still, the point is you can’t shake the feeling that something’s changed. Something shifted between you and Root. Your stomach grumbles. You sigh. And you didn’t notice her enter the subway station, paper bag in hand.

“What’s with the sigh, Shaw? Long day?” Root asks.

There it goes again. _Shaw?_

She sets the paper bag beside you, keeping it between the both of you as she sits on the other side of the bench, taking the box out of the paper bag and handing it to you without looking. She’s got you a steak and you know you should be ravishing it as soon as you get your hands on it, but you stop. You hesitate. You lift your right hand and grabbed the box, but instead of pulling it, you just let it hang between you and Root. She noticed you’re not taking it, your eyes searching her's asking her - no, daring her -to pay attention. She turns her head and you do everything to hold her gaze. She’s looking at you as if trying to figure out what’s going on inside your head. You don’t know what she saw, but you hope it’s enough to suspend everything else around you and keep her there. You feel her take a deep breath and let go of the box.

Silence.

“Root, what’s going on?” you ask when she just settled in her seat and starts pulling out a sandwich from the paper bag.

“Hmm?” she asks absentmindedly, attention to the sandwich she's beginning to unwrap. When you don’t answer, she turns her head to you. “Shaw, is everything alright? What’s the matter?” she asks, looking genuinely confused.

 _Shaw?_ You wince internally. “Nothing,” you say, still looking at her. “Never mind,” you add, because you have no idea what else to say.

“Okay,” she says, and you wonder why Root didn’t insist on knowing what’s up.

The silence that followed was unbearable. You try to think of something to say. It makes you wanna roll your eyes. _This is stupid_ , you thought, so you set aside your untouched steak and take the sandwich Root was opening from her hand.

“Tell me what’s on your mind, Root” you say. But really, you’re demanding her to speak up. If you’re hopeful that she’ll smile or share something about herself, you didn’t show. You realize you don’t know a lot about Root. You only know a handful of information, which you think are fabricated anyway, and a bunch of other details from her file, and from Finch and Reese. You didn’t care before. Your lack of knowledge about her didn’t concern you before, but you do now because you don’t like this Root who’s not pushy, this Root who doesn’t wanna sit right next to you and doesn’t  call you ‘ _Sweetie’_ or ‘ _Sameen.’_

She’s smiling now, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. It’s as if it pains her to look at you, and so she breaks eye contact and drops her gaze to the floor.  “Nothing that you should be worried about. Anyway, gotta go. Catch up with you soon.” She reaches for her sandwich and stands up.

“No,” you say and grab her hand. She freezes. “Something’s not right and I wanna know what it is,” you say a little forcefully. “You can’t go out there when you clearly have something on your mind. You’ll jeopardize the mission.” That’s far from what you wanted to say. But you’re not so used to being concerned. You just want her to stop being this gloomy shell with the face of someone you know. You want her to be the Root you know and learned to tolerate. You want her to be your Root again, if you’re being honest - which you are, obviously (just not expressively or out loud) - even if you don’t know full and well what that means.

“Didn’t know you cared, Shaw,” she bites back bitterly as she looks at you sideways.

 _‘It’s Sameen!’_ you wanna tell her. _She’s not avoiding you. She’s not running away from you. She came here and she brought you food, didn’t she?_ You mentally chastise yourself. Why does it bother you that she’s not actively seeking you out anyway?

Root huffs and then she faces you fully this time. She’s got a little smile on her face that’s hoping to ease the tension. “I was hoping we could share a nice meal before I leave later. I missed you.” You wanted to laugh because a steak and a sandwich qualify as a _nice_ meal to her. But you believe her so you don’t. “I’m just tired. I didn’t mean to make your day any worse and it wasn’t my intention to snap at you,” she says and you know damn well you’re giving in because you know she’s sincere and, of course, those big doe eyes and that little smile will always get to you no matter how much you hate to admit it. It’s almost unbelievable, the power this woman has over you.

She pulls away from your grasp and places both her hands on your shoulder. “I’m sorry sweetie. Please get back to your meal. It’s gonna get colder.” _Just like you_ , you thought.

But she called you _Sweetie._ God, how you missed her calling you that. A smile almost breaks out of your face which makes you internally groan because _wow, I’m such a sap_ , but then you remember, “You’re leaving again? You just got back not less than an hour ago.” You sound angry because you are, because you missed her too and have now just decided that you want her here with you. You want her to stay, though it’s selfish because you know the world needs her attention and genius to save it from whatever terrible destruction and chaos it set itself into whenever it moves. But you want to get to know Root, maybe make her smile, or even laugh, and call you sweetie again and again. So yeah, you admit to yourself that you’re selfish, but you also defend yourself, because really, anyone who knows Root would probably understand your sentiments.

You feel bad for her though, because here she is, not even back for an hour and you’re already picking a fight with her.

“Where are you going this time?” you wait for an answer that you know will never come, so you change tactics. “Let me go with you. You might need back up.” It sounds like a command coming from you, but you’re looking at her expectantly. She’s so beautiful, _that’s a given_. But she also looks tired. “Please?” you say so softly for it to be anything but an appeal to her emotion.

Root smiles a genuine smile and you think that’s your reward for showing your vulnerability to her.

“No need to go begging, Sameen. I won’t need back up for this one, I assure you. So I’ll see you when I get back?” she says.

You want to insist that she let you go with her but you don’t. Instead, at the back of your mind you’re devising a plan to track her down if she takes too long to come back to you.

You feel Root eyeing you again. You realize you haven’t given her an answer yet.

“Trust me,” it sounds like both an assurance and a promise. She squeezes your shoulders one last time before she drops her hands to her sides and turns, prepared to leave again.

“Please take care of yourself,” you all but whisper in the air between you two. It was barely audible but you know she heard you because you heard a faint “That’s exactly what I’m gonna do” before she disappeared.

Your phone beeps. You pull it out to check the message you just received from an unknown number.

ANALOG INTERFACE.

HEART TRANSPLANT.

CHANCE OF SURVIVAL: 22.53%

You’re struck momentarily, still as a statue. Both your feet are planted on the ground. You try to process everything you just read and suddenly you can’t move.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For all her annoying, clingy, and space-invading routine, Root sure knows how to isolate herself.

Heart transplant. Shaw keeps repeating it in her head, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that Root will most likely go through it alone. _Just like how she always usually does everything_ , there's another bitter thought. For all her annoying, clingy, and space-invading routine, Root sure knows how to isolate herself.

You know it’s different from your sort of isolation. Sameen Shaw scares people away. That's how you manage to keep people out of your way. You terrify them, either with a look, a growl, or a spine-chilling threat. Once you’ve laid down your ultimatum, they couldn’t wait to scurry away. And you just love to shake your head and laugh at their reactions. Not with Root though. She challenges your threats head on, usually with a smirk, a wink, or a playful innuendo. When people can’t wait to run away from you, Root calmly saunters up to you. And you find that both enticing and infuriating.

Root knows how to lure people in. She reads them and then after some time she'll know how to deal with them. Subterfuge _. She hacks human beings as easily as she hacks computers_ , those were Harold’s description of her, and you think that's just one way of trying to put into words the person Root is. She knows how to find her way into people's lives - their eyes, their minds, their hearts, even. She's relentless and she's ruthless, but, at the same time, caring and thoughtful. She's an irony you want to learn to deal with.

Far from appealing to people's senses as distraction, Root can convince them of the beauty there is in destruction, where she can pick them apart and let them know she can fix them if she pleases. _If it ain't broken, break it_ , she says to everybody over the comms link one day during a mission, but you know she meant to tell you that broken things are beautiful as they are. You were never flawed in Root's eyes, you know that for certain. She doesn't get comfortable, though. She knows when and how to keep her distance, always cautious and respectful of boundaries she choose to recognize. Always ten steps ahead of everybody, and even when you let her close enough you fear that no matter how hard you try to keep up, she'll eventually leave you somewhat mesmerized but still oblivious in her wake.

You curse at yourself when you didn’t hear the steps approaching you. Bear is already running towards you when you realize you’re no longer alone. He’s followed by John and Harold, looking at your frozen figure. You don’t know how much time has passed since the Machine’s message. And if it’s possible, you’d like to strangle something tangible for letting your mind drift when you should be running after Root.

“What happened, Ms. Shaw?” Harold asked eventually, alarm in his tone. He and John have been looking at you, confused as to why you didn’t even greet Bear.

You just hand them your phone to show the Machine’s message.

“She’ll be fine, Shaw,” Reese said as if it’s a given that Root can handle this by herself. You suppose he’s right. But that didn’t give you any sense of relief that you know he hopes to convey. You wonder, _why aren’t they surprised by this turn of events?_ You know you were.

You turn to Harold, “Finch, what do you know about this?” you all but ask, the tone of authority in your voice telling him he better tell you everything or there’ll be dire consequences. You’ve yet to decide what consequences they’ll be though.

“I simply know that she and the Machine had an argument about it the last time she was here. I suppose the Machine has finally convinced her to have the transplant after all. A matter I’m quite relieved to be aware of now,” Finch said.

“Wait. So you knew Root has a heart condition and you didn’t bother telling anyone about it?” your voice is filled with frustration right now.

“Sorry, I haven't been completely forthright, but what good would it have done, Ms. Shaw? She’s willing to die for this cause, convinced that this war will be the end for her,” Finch tries, and fails, to reason out.

“Damn it, Finch. You know we don’t leave our comrades to go through anything alone. You know how dangerous it is out there,” John says.

“I know that,” Finch answers defensively. “Ms. Groves refused the heart the Machine has reserved for her.” A pause. And in a low voice, almost hesitatingly he says, “I offered to go with her should she wish to push through with the operation, but she said she cannot afford to lose any more time.” After an uncomfortable silence, he continues, “She said her life is threatened everyday anyway, so what's a heart disease but a pesky condition that's just slowing her down a little when running an errand.”

You can tell Finch is anguished now. You know he did his best to convince her. That wasn’t enough though. Maybe if you knew, if he told you something, you might not be having this conversation at all. You can feel the rage building inside you. Root is so nonchalant about herself you now decide she’s not to be left responsible about her life. _Never again._

“I didn't realize that you'd be so troubled over Ms. Groves as you are right now. I can only assume Root didn't want you to worry about this,” Finch adds. That’s not an assumption though. That’s a truth. Root probably threatened him not to say anything. That’s just how she is.

“You should go find her, Shaw. Maybe that’s why the Machine sent you these messages,” John said, handing your phone back to you. When you didn’t say anything more, they walked to the subway car with Bear in tow, probably dejected at your lack of response to his presence.

No wonder some things have been weighing Root down lately. She probably thinks she doesn’t deserve a new heart.

A new heart. Root's gonna have a new heart - an involuntary muscle to pump blood throughout the body. Med school taught you that. Most heart transplants are successful. A new heart means an improved, extended life, you recite in your head. But it means that it'll be somebody's heart to keep her alive because Root's is dying. You wonder briefly if this heart will recognize you. Will it adore you? Will it love you just as much as the old one does? Love, that's what it's called, isn't it? That feeling everybody associates with this organ. And you can't help but feel your stomach drop at the thought of something going awry during her operation.

You remember you told Root that you do the protecting. And that’s what you’re gonna do now.

You take your coat from the bench and exit the hideout as fast as you can. You find a camera, look at it and wait for its signal that it’s listening to you. Two blinks.

“Tell me where Root is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I'm both surprised and grateful for all the kudos and nice comments this fic has gotten since I've posted it. Thanks so much everybody! :)
> 
> I'm a little disheartened today when I found out that I'll be traveling for work when the finale will air, so I decided to write this follow up. I know this is not as detailed as the last one but I promise I'll try to make it up with the next one. Please feel free to let me know what you think. I'll try to update soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I gotta go, but since you already know, let me tell you that whatever will beat inside of me, it’ll always belong to you. Nothing will change that.

_How do you have a conversation with an artificial intelligence?_

So you’ve been staring at the security camera across the street for a while now. You don’t know what, but you know you’re waiting for something. Seconds later you hear a payphone ring. You hurry towards it and lift the receiver to your ear.

“Hi, you,” you didn’t expect Root to be the one calling you. “I know the Machine told you something. Sorry about that. But what can I say, Sam? Sometimes you gotta leave.”

“Root, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” you ask through gritted teeth.

“Isn’t it funny?” she asks, and you hear her take a stilling breath. “There’s nothing left for me to leave behind here, yet I’m fighting as if I still have far to go.” She’s talking about fighting but her voice is devoid of any fight. There’s just a slight tinge of hope mixed with resignation, if ever such combination exists. You wanna tell her there's lots to fight for. You don't know how.

“Seriously, Root. Are you about to go have a heart transplant without anyone there to watch your back? What if something happens?” you asks. There's slight panic in your voice that you know you'll deny ever being there.

You know you’ve always been part of a team – the Marines, the ISA, and now Finch’s halfway house for retired assassins. But Root, she’s always been independent. And you’ve never despised that fact more than you do right now.

“What are you gonna do, Sameen?” Root asks.

A beat. You’re thinking carefully of how you’re gonna phrase your answer.

“Tell me where you are. I’ll come and find you,” you tell her.

You can hear her sigh from the other end of the line, an indication that might as well say _wrong answer_ , “Don’t worry, Sam. I’ll be back.”

She's not worried about complications. You are. And you can’t help but be enraged with all her non-answers.

“Root, I swear to god, you let me know where you are right now or else I’m –”

“There’s no time to waste, Sameen. Yours or mine. You gotta stay there. They need you,” her voice is firm but broken. You want to ask _But what about you? Don’t you need me?_ But you’re afraid of the answer, so you hold back and bite your tongue.

“Like I said, trust me,” there she goes again trying to reassure you.

You know Root likes you, but you doubt that it could run any deeper, she has the Machine for that, and you don't know whether to be relieved or mad about that. She’s not doing this for you, and maybe that’s why she’s fine going through this by herself however you’re not. You know you feel uneasy about it though, _how can that combination of code, wires and plastic of a robot convince Root to keep on living?_ You have no idea. But you want to know. Again you ask yourself, _how do you have a conversation with an artificial intelligence?_ And so you just scowl at the phone, not knowing whether Root can see you. You’re meant to run after her, offer her whatever sense of comfort your presence can give her, but here she is, asking you to trust that she’ll be just fine. It also sounds like a false promise, but you know Root would never lie to you. She can keep things from you, but she’ll never deliberately lie to you. You can count on that at least.

“Sameen,” Root breathes out on the other end. You didn’t realize you got lost in your thoughts once again. You roll your eyes and shake your head, _the things this woman does to you._

“Okay. Fine, Root. We’ll do this your way. But you better stay in touch. Keep me posted on what’s going on with you,” it’s only right that you demand this of her. You’ll never know what can happen. And Root’s casual lack of concern for her health and indifference for her safety makes you wanna strangle yourself already for agreeing to this.

“Sure, Sameen,” you notice a change in her tone - she's smiling. You’re prepared for the inevitable teasing remarks, but for some reason that’s all she says. You picture her with eyes sparkling, smiling that goofy smile of hers anyway.

“I’m being serious, Root,” you say more to yourself than her.

“I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll check in with you and Harry too so that you guys won’t worry yourselves over little ol’ me. I’m sure I can even assist you guys from where I’ll be,” she says playfully. You realize you’re always gonna have to share her. That’s how people with connections are. And instead of trying to be petty and selfish about it, you smile a small smile because you’re allowed to know her and you can’t say the same for the rest of the world. _A loss for the whole world, really._ You vow to honor that privilege every day. And suddenly, you can’t wait for her to come back already.

“No. Just focus on being well,” you say quickly. “But I’d appreciate the updates, I’m sure Finch will too,” you amend.

“Whatever you say, Sam,” playful tone still in place. After a while she says, “Listen Sameen, I gotta go, but since you already know, let me tell you that whatever will beat inside of me, it’ll always belong to you. Nothing will change that.” And then the line is dead.

It takes a while for you to recover from her admission. The dial tone's insistently demanding you to leave the phone in peace. You set the receiver back to its cradle and you walk back to face the security camera.

“I wanna know how you convinced her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it turns out, I gotta pass the time. I'm sad because I'm still gonna miss the finale tonight 'cause I'm supposed to be traveling for work.
> 
> I'm not sure how long this fic will be. I guess I'll just have to play it by ear. I'll welcome your comments.
> 
> Thanks for reading. Here's to hoping the finale will do the our amazing show justice.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unbelievable, you thought. But, really, it’s more along the lines of it’s inevitable, if you’re being quite honest.

Once again, you find yourself staring at a security camera. You’re aware that you’re having a staring contest with it, and with enough glaring you’re sure you’re gonna win. _But this is getting really stupid_. So you turn around and started to walk away.

You then wonder why it sent you those messages. _What do they mean? Why does She want me to know if She won’t let me go with Root anyway?_ Whoa, you just acknowledged Root’s robo-god as She. Could this day end now? ‘Cause really, it all moved so slow and yet so much like a blur as well that you know you’ll need a moment or two to process everything.

By the time you reached your apartment, you’re just mentally drained. Physically, you know the team’s not engaged with much action lately save for a few perps who are probably healing from the kneecapping you and John gave them and some dimwits in distress that you’ve reluctantly ushered to safety just this afternoon. Emotionally though, you’re surprised to say that you don’t really know. There used to be no emotions to hide or feelings to run away from, but that was before this tightness in your chest and that uneasiness in your gut settled in right after you find out about Root’s operation. _What do I do with these… things?_

You take off your clothes and head to your bathroom, whether in hopes to soak in your newfound sentiments for Root or wash away all your troubling thoughts about what may happen to her, you have no idea. When you stepped in the shower, all you know is you want to drown, maybe be consumed by that something that somehow miraculously materialized within you. _Is this love?_ You’re not sure. How will you know though? Maybe you’ll figure this out eventually, but you tell yourself not to be afraid if it is anyway.

With your phone in hand and dressed for bed, you lay yourself down, contemplating whether to dial Root’s number. _Just so I know she’s still alive!_ You say in your mind defensively, but you realized there’s a timbre of concern there where there used to be denial. When you unlocked your phone, however, you find messages from an unknown source though, you suspect, it has to be from the Machine.

ANALOG INTERFACE IS MY HEART.

I’M AFRAID TO LOSE HER.

I LOVE HER.

There you go. Suspicion confirmed. It’s definitely from the Machine. And what do you know? It’s in love with her, too. See? This is what you mean when you say that everybody who knows Root would understand your selfishness – no, scratch that – possessiveness over her. Everybody just seems to be so taken with her. Even a damn robot learned to develop feelings for her! _Unbelievable_ , you thought. But, really, it’s more along the lines of _it’s inevitable_ , if you’re being quite honest.

Maybe the Machine thinks you wouldn’t understand, after all your constant reminder that you don’t feel anything you wouldn’t be surprised if it assumed as much. You imagine the Machine taking the time your walk home and bath has taken you to prepare itself for this confession. An all-seeing, all-powerful being, just like a child, too shy to admit a crush. It’s a cute thought, but also a ridiculous image.

The Machine knows how amazing Root is (probably more so than you) and if a being like that can evolve and be sensitive and receptive of affections, what more a human such as yourself? There’s hope for you after all. _Just as long as Root doesn’t take back everything that she said_ , you remind yourself.

You drift off to sleep with Root’s voice replaying in your head, _“Whatever will beat inside of me, it’ll always belong to you.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little update for now. Been quite busy. But I plan to update as much as possible since I've pretty much extended the story.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finch called in earlier briefly saying that you have a particularly difficult number and asking if you could come in as soon as possible.

“Okay, Root. Take care of yourself.”

That’s the first thing you hear rounding the corner of the subway hideout. You hear Reese heave a hefty sigh of frustration. Root must have relayed some disturbingly vital information. Finch called in earlier briefly saying that you have a particularly difficult number and asking if you could come in as soon as possible so that the team could discuss strategy.

“Hey, guys what’s up?” you ask by way of greeting as you enter the subway car. Bear excitedly greets you, wagging his tail.

“Ms. Shaw. So pleased you could join us,” Finch turns from his work station to greet you with a small smile. You notice him inhale quite a lungful of breath as if preparing to face certain danger and not the usual debriefing the team has over a number. _Maybe it’s more than just one number._

When Finch stood up and begins to walk towards the lounge where the board is, you can feel the tension roll off of him. _What’s up with that?_ Reese follows him, and so did you but not without making sure Bear does as well. Finch stares at John’s face for a few seconds too long before he gives in and began speaking.

“I’m afraid I may have to put you in a troubling predicament, Ms. Shaw. And before I begin, may I implore you to keep an open mind as we go about this mission,” Finch says cautiously.

“Just get on with it, Harold. We don’t have much time if you think this number is so important,” you bite back impatiently.

 “You see, Ms. Shaw, our new number,” Finch pauses yet again and you don’t know why he keeps on doing that, “is your old employer,” he says as he tapes Control’s photo on the board. 

_Okay, now I get it._

“I know you might still be holding some residual grudge based on how your employment ended with her, but for the sake of this mission, may we ask you to please consider the greater good that will come out in saving her life,” he adds before you can say anything.

So he thinks that you’re gonna want your revenge for what happened with the ISA and your “ _untimely death”_. _Maybe he’s the one who doesn’t get it._ You’re way past that. After all, it brought you to the team, didn’t it? But, _residual?_ What the hell, you’re still full of fury for that woman. You’re gonna want your revenge for a whole different reason.

A reason that only yesterday you feared will grow tired of you and will walk out of your life for good.

And as if by some cosmic joke, Root’s impeccable timing strikes again. “Finish this discussion later. I just intercepted another message, they’re planning to take her, tonight at midnight. From her home.” And then the line was out.

 

* * *

 

You’re trailing Control with Fusco while Reese is out, following the lead on Vigilance. _They’re still going on and on about how the government is abusing its citizen’s right to privacy. Blah, blah, blah._ You’re bored. It’s already 3 p.m. and there’s still no sign of danger.

Fusco left to get some snacks and you’re once again alone with your thoughts while keeping watch. You’re supposed to protect her. _And **I** **am** protecting her_ , you say to yourself defensively. But you can’t help but resent this mission. You’re so tempted to turn your back and walk away if only so this woman would stop haunting your thoughts about the possibility of losing Root because of this woman’s orders. You take personal offense in the fact that here you are, having to keep her from harm’s way when all she caused you and Root are pain and trauma (granted it’s more Root than you, but still, the point is you’ve both been mistreated because of this woman).

Root’s voice interrupted your thoughts as it comes to life through your earpiece, “How’s it hanging, Sameen?” her voice as sweet and teasing as ever.

“I’m about to off myself with boredom here, Root. How are you?” you let your dark humor shine through to mask your concern.

“Aww, sweetie. I’m okay,” she says sweetly before taking a much serious tone, “Listen, Sameen. I know this might be something that you don’t want to do at the moment, but please, stay the course. We need her alive,” she sounds an awful lot like Finch just this morning. “Plus, she’s got Julia – her daughter,” Root adds.

“Fine, Root,” you cave in. She’s making you see reason and you don’t want to stress her more than she already is. “Is there anything else I should know about? What about you, are you resting? Preparing for the op?” _Okay, Shaw. That’s too many questions at once. Might be good to let her catch up,_ you tell yourself. _But it’s not like I can take all my words back._

“I’m doing just fine,” Root says. “Anyway, gotta go. Talk to you later.”

Root is up to something, you don’t know what, but you know she is. Before you can even begin to analyze what it could be, Fusco comes back from his snack run. 

“Cocoa Puffs called, said you might want some of these,” he says while handing you a few bars of chocolate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan to write this chapter a little much longer than it is, but I had to leave so I had to cut this here for now. Hope to update soon.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading. Have good days ahead guys! :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You blink your thoughts away and decide to keep your eyes on the road. Your anger fuels you to drive fast and hope to get away faster before you do something that will disappoint your team. Though you’re not sure if it’s also something that will disappoint her.

Fifteen minutes before midnight, Finch relayed the information that six armed figures exited two black vans a block away from Control’s home. Reese is on the move, ready to intervene.

Earlier, the team has decided that it’s better to observe under the radar unless the situation becomes so dire that it requires interaction with the number. You say team, but it’s more like you and Reese. Fusco left after being called to the precinct and Finch prefers keeping the number safe within proximity. But you want to stay as far away from Control as this mission allows, mind traveling back to a time when you noticed the far too many needle marks on Root’s arms that the hacker dismissively, if not too quickly, covered up one afternoon while standing behind you, pointing out something on the computer screen two days after her “fun” chat with Control and her little trip to Hong Kong or where ever. Reese, as always, is just content lurking in the shadows.

You see two armed figures wearing masks walk up to Control’s door, and now you’re running towards them, gun at hand and aiming for their kneecaps.

“Shaw, you ready to have some fun? There’s more on the way,” John says over the comms.

Harold opposes that idea immediately, “Ms. Shaw, I think it’s best to get Control and her daughter out of there before their lives are at even more peril,” he says. You roll you eyes at this. _Killjoy_. But you proceed to follow his orders anyway.

You enter the house just as Control and her daughter are about to leave.

“Ma’am,” you say.

“Agent Shaw,” she says, acknowledging your presence. 

A gun shot in your general direction. You see the child, Julia, slightly stiffen and then cover her ears. She’s obviously frightened. You motion for them to duck and take cover. Hidden behind a huge pillar, Control takes out her gun and you begin to explain to her the situation.

“This might be hard for you to believe, but I’m here to protect you. Come with me and I’ll keep you safe,” you tell her, but from the blank stares that you’re receiving from her and her daughter you think you might’ve said that unconvincingly. _Not for lack of good reason_ , you thought. Lucky for you she’s in on what’s going on, and so she nods in the direction of the exit and they go with you willingly while Reese is still shooting at Vigilance from the other side of the house.

You drive away as soon as you all get to the car.

“A friend, the interface, has warned me that I might be in more danger than initially anticipated. She says to get to this place,” Control says from the backseat, handing over her phone showing a map.

Before you can say anything, Harold calls to inform you that John is still dealing with Vigilance and says that he’ll be directing John to follow you to your destination as soon as the opportunity permits it.

You drive wordlessly after that. Occasionally looking at the rear-view mirror, you can see Control with her arms wrapped around her sleeping daughter, stroking the child’s hair while dropping little kisses on her forehead. You thought this sight warms your heart a little, but then you’re reminded of a heart struggling to beat courtesy of this woman’s orders if not personally by her own hands. Root’s not been very forthcoming of the details, but you get the gist.

You blink your thoughts away and decide to keep your eyes on the road. Your anger fuels you to drive fast and hope to get away faster before you do something that will disappoint your team. Though you’re not sure if it’s also something that will disappoint _her_.

A little over two hours later, you pull over in front of a rundown warehouse close to a private airport. You step out of the car to call Reese.

“Sorry, Shaw. I’m afraid I’m gonna be a little late. I think I’ve been followed,” Reese says as he picks up the line. “Have to get them off your tail.”

Finch decided to join in on the conversation, “Please stay put, Ms. Shaw. And do expect company. Somebody is coming to give Control and her daughter the necessary documents for them to escape the country and start a new life.”

And with that the conversation ended. You get back in the car where you decided is a much safer place to wait. _Just in case we need to move again._

“It turns out that you can’t trust anybody,” Control says after a palpable silence.

_Gee, you think?_  you reply sarcastically in your head. You notice Control’s lips form a thin line and her eyes narrow at you, and you realize you might’ve replied vocally too.

“Samaritan is not the system the government hoped it to be, but the woman who warned me, the interface, she speaks to the old system. She has access to it and it’s never wrong. So I trust her,” she says. “Or the information she gives, at least,” she added.

You refrain from engaging in this conversation as much as you can. You’ve been dreading this since the team got her number because you know it’s not gonna be anywhere remotely civil, much less good. Being here is conflicting enough as it is. But you gotta pass the time somehow, so you tried tapping into your inner reserve, however you found out it’s not enough.

“Too bad you didn’t realize that before you tortured her. Do you know how much damage you’ve done?” you reply in anguish.

Control is stunned to silence, probably too shocked to see more than the usual passiveness and irritability grace your features. _Or probably surprised to be made aware that you also know this "interface" she keeps talking about._ You huff,  _if only she knew._ You can tell she’s trying to form a response though. And you’re waiting for her to say something. Maybe to apologize or acknowledge her wrongdoing. Anything. Julia stirs in her sleep, tugging her mother’s arms closer, maybe feeling the rising tension in the car. _Or maybe hearing her mother's heart beat faster out of apprehension of what I might do to her. Not that I have anything planned or something._

But suddenly the door opens and a figure clad in all black now occupies the passenger seat.

“Relax, sweetie. It’s all good now,” Root says smiling as she looks at the rear-view mirror. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I miss the show. :'( 
> 
> Just a little update since I'm writing this on my phone. Hope to add another chapter soon. As always thanks for reading. :)


	7. Chapter 7

Remember when you said you can’t wait for her to come back already? Well, screw that, because here she is, sitting beside you, and you want nothing more for her than to go away. At least to go get her treatment.  _Does kicking her ass seem like a good idea?_ Probably not.

“Root, what the hell are you doing here?” you’re so exasperated with her, you don’t know whether to wait for that heart to stop or just strangle her with your bare hands right where she’s at.

“Change of plans, Sam,” she says, eyes still on the rear view mirror. And once again you know she is disregarding her personal interest because it’s part of the greater plan… for the common good, or something like that. _Whatever_. You don’t really know what for. You just know it’s something Root’s believed in all these time. It’s not altruism, you think, because Root initially started everything out of her own hatred of humanity; out of her fascination with evolution, with progression. She’s a constant, moving series of curiosities and discoveries – always excited to see what’s next. She despised people and their disgusting fallibility. But now, you’re sitting beside her, and you feel like watching her disintegrate into the missions she’s accomplished – and still accomplishing, no doubt –and the codes she write just to save people,  to nudge the world in a better direction, really, at her own life’s expense. And you really, really hate it. _Does she not know or care what happens next to her?_ And somehow you know you won’t like her answer had you voiced that question out loud.

Root’s still looking at the rear view mirror, at Control, composed with a somber expression on her face. And again, you don’t know where this look is coming from or what it even means because as far as you’re concerned, Root should only feel resentment and anger towards that woman. _Hell, she shouldn’t even be here helping Control at all._

“Root,” Control finally managed to say, acknowledging Root with a hint of respect in her voice. _Too bad, Root can’t probably hear it_ , you thought bitterly.

"Control," Root replies with a small smirk.

You’re not comfortable with Root and Control being in the same place. But at the same time, you admire Root for her reserve in this situation.

Without saying anything else, Root reaches for envelopes in her satchel and hands them to Control. While examining the contents, Control managed to wake up Julia and what happens next is probably something that you know would be possible but never thought would happen.

“Sam?” Julia asked, rubbing her eyes while looking at Root.

Control drops what she’s doing, she's frozen with eyes staring at nothing but the space between Root and her child.

“Hey, sweetie,” Root greets the child, tone sweet and lovely. She turns to look at Julia with a little smile, and you’re just looking at her face. So is Control. “What?” Root asks defensively.

An uncomfortable silence fell in the car. And no one seems to be willing to make a move. Well, no one besides Julia, that is.

She’s reaching forward to touch Root’s face, but she ends up holding on to some of Root’s brunette locks instead. “Where have you been? I missed you,” the kid says all pouty and cute.

“Sorry, I’ve been away longer than I told you, honey. I got caught up in lots of work. Anyway, I’ve got you something,” Root says while reaching for something from her satchel once again. A tablet. _Sure, Root, hand the kid an electronic, why don’t you?_ “Don’t worry, it’s not bugged,” she says to Control, who only narrows her eyes at her as she’s about to read some file.

The tablet looks nothing special. But you’re surprised to see Julia excitedly take it and look at its back. Pleased with what she sees, she looks at Root with a huge, adoring smile on her face.

“I think it’s time we step out and talk,” Control says, opening the door. You’re about to do the same when Root stops you and says she’ll handle it. She asks you to look after the kid.

You see them start to discuss something and you decide to start one of your own.

“So… uh, Julia, how do you know Sam?” you ask, and you feel somewhat funny calling Root anything else other than Root. For you, she’s always been just Root.

“Oh, Sam? She visits me whenever she’s got time. She travels a lot, so we never really get to spend a lot of time together,” somehow you understand what she’s saying on a personal level. “Last time she visited me, I asked her if she could take me to a zoo,” Julia added and then proceeded to show you the back of her tablet. There’s an image of an elephant engraved in the middle of the tablet. _So that’s what’s made it special_. “Sam said that elephants never forget, especially when in danger. And mother elephants make better decisions for their babies,” she further explained.

“Uh-huh,” you say and when nothing else comes from you, Julia proceeds with starting up the tablet and playing an app or something.

Your mind’s going a mile a second. Thinking what it all could’ve meant to Root. _Is there some connection to all of this or is Root just humoring this kid?_ But at the back of your mind, you know Root never just does anything, there’s usually something greater behind whatever she’s doing.

When Root and Control returns to the car, she instructs you to drive to the private airport. When you reached your destination, Control lets Julia know that they’re boarding the plane. Julia hugs Root. And Root promises to stay in touch.

You stand back, unbelieving that you’re letting Control off the hook this easy.

 

* * *

 

“What the hell was that all about, Root? And what are you doing here? What about the operation?” you stalk towards the car angrily as soon as the plane took off. You don’t know why but you noticed you’re being far too inquisitive these past few days. But yeah, having Root around, when she’s not supposed to be, justifies that, so you push on.

“That was us sending Control and her daughter to safety. I had to deliver a message from the Machine. Control’s gonna help us get teams to continue running numbers so that we’re not spread too thinly. With Samaritan online, we’re gonna need all the help we can get.” Root explains following you to the car.

 _What about the last question?_ you want to ask. You glare at her before you take the driver’s seat and she hurries to enter the car.

“Root,” you say, warning in your tone.

She sighs and then she says, “Don’t worry, Sam. It’s not like I’m gonna be a burden to any of you guys. I’ll be fine. I’ve managed well enough so far.”

That’s definitely not what you want to hear.

“I can’t believe you’re letting her off this easy. You of all people should know. It’s Control. She almost killed you. And with your heart’s complications, I’d say she’s still killing you, Root!” you’re so angry at the situation, and you don’t understand why Root isn’t.

You’re gonna lose her. _I don’t wanna lose you, Root_ , you wanna tell her. And somehow you can’t believe yourself. Like, how could you be so coward as to not say it properly? Or at all? No wonder she’s not saying much either.

“What can I say? That’s humans for you, Sameen. Flawed,” she says flatly. “But we all make mistakes. And we could choose to correct them too. Or pay it forward or something,” she adds. You want your disapproval to be known, but you know she’s probably tired so you breathe out all your frustrations and let it drop for now.

“Root, you can’t do this to me, you know?” you plead, looking down at your lap. “Please. Don’t.” you say in a whisper.

She’s shaking her head a little, “I… I don’t understand,” she says in an even lower tone. She’s looking at you in confusion, “What do you mean, Shaw?” she asks, uncertainty evident in her voice.

“Make me care for you, then disregard your own safety,” you say carefully.

When she doesn’t say anything, you lift up your head to look at her. There’s a faint smile on her lips, but grief in her eyes. You want to know what she’s thinking. When she reaches for your forearm and leans to kiss your cheek you decide that you can pick this up at a later time.

You try to send her a reassuring smile. You hope your face managed to communicate that, at least. You start the car and intertwine your fingers as you drive.

_So many questions, but I’ll settle with whatever she’s comfortable sharing. I can wait._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter didn't end up the way I wanted to, but that's alright, I guess. Apparently my mind wanted me to construct longer sentences. I'll just have to elaborate and explain on the next chapter.
> 
> As always, thanks for your continued interest in this story.


	8. Chapter 8

You’re driving back to the hideout for almost half an hour now, occasionally checking on Root silently resting in the passenger seat. She let go of your hand a few minutes after you set off the road, saying something about you acting strangely. _Like anything’s normal for either of us_.

Her eyes are closed, most likely sleeping her tiredness away. _Who wouldn’t after the days she’s had?_ you ask yourself. Root probably just boarded another plane or something from wherever she was supposed to have her operation after finding out about the number. _The idiot_. You suspect it’s all Root’s decision instead of the Machine’s, after all, the Machine was the one to convince her to have that transplant in the first place.

She starts with a jolt and you look at her to see what’s up.

“Calm down, Harry. I’m fine,” she says almost patronizingly. You deduce she’s woken up by Harold’s call. So now she’s talking to Finch and though you can’t hear his end of the conversation, you know he’s clearly expressing his displeasure at the turn of events.

“I don’t think you understand the gravity of our situation, Harold. Or the danger we’re up against,” Root declares. “You know why Control’s number came up? Samaritan is executing orders under her command without her knowledge. Commands that concern national security. They no longer have any use for her, but if we’re gonna win this war, we’ve got to have her with us. She knows how the Machine operates, and now that her family’s threatened, she’s also aware of just how risky things have evolved. She’ll cooperate with us.”

She pauses for a moment, listening to Harold’s response.

“That doesn’t matter.”

You hope he’s at least putting up a good argument about the risks Root is facing coming back so soon to deal with Control.

“Now’s not the time, Harold. Lives hang in the balance. And like it or not, my inaction could mean a greater threat to you and to Her so I’m staying,” she pauses, taking a calming breath. “We have to work together, all of us, or else everything that we did, everything that we’re fighting against, would be fought for nothing. Believe me, Harold. You don’t want to wake up in a world where Samaritan is taking control… well, more than it already is.”

You know Finch is probably talking about how foolish Root’s choice is. Or, he’s probably trying to reason out with her telling her how important it is that she look after herself first. But then you hear Root say, “It’s fine. Believe me, Harry. It’s better this way,” and you know there’s no way Finch would win that debate.

You deflate a little. Neither of you can stop Root once she’s made up her mind. _She doesn’t answer to either of us, remember?_ And try as you might to prepare yourself, you really don’t like where this is headed.

When Root’s done with her call there’s just silence between the two of you. You take your eyes off the road for a moment, just long enough to look at Root and ask a breathy, “Why?”

You don’t know if she understands the context of your question, but you trust that she’ll give you an answer, something to ground her choices into, and so you wait. It bothers you to hear her say everything to Finch with so much conviction. That she believes in the Machine and the cause of winning a war so much that it’s worth her life. _It isn’t. It shouldn’t._

“You know…,” she begins hesitant after a long pause, “when I kidnapped Harold, when I was looking for the Machine, he told me that every night at midnight the Machine dies,” you don’t say anything. You just take her hand back and give it a little squeeze, encouraging her to continue. And she does.

“Can you believe that? Before the Machine set herself free, she died. Every. Single. Night,” you take note of her emphasis. She’s shaking her head. Incredulous, like she can’t believe that that was the way it was done before. There’s a bitter smile playing at her lips now, and her eyes are misty. She takes a shaky breath before she continues, “You wanna know the first thing the Machine did after She moved herself? After she was finally free?" A beat. "She called me. She chose me. And now I’m choosing her. And you wanna know why that is?” she takes a moment to still her breath once more. “Because protecting Her means protecting you – protecting everybody. And I really can’t afford to lose. I don’t want to lose anybody, ever,” she says with tears threatening to fall from her eyes. She doesn’t cry.

You wonder _, how do you respond to that?_ You stay silent. You keep on driving but you’re tempted to stop, to look Root in the eye and tell her that it doesn’t have to be this way. _But what difference does telling her that would even do?_ You park the car off the road and face her anyway.

“Root, It doesn’t have to be this way. I'm here for you,” you tell her and you can see a hint of a smile playing at her lips. “We’ve made our choices. You can’t protect us all from what’s gonna happen,” you press on. You’re so uncertain about this…sharing what’s on your mind _thing_ but you figure it’s worth a shot. “You told me before that you need me, well, I…I need you, too,” you say calmly.

“And I’m here, aren’t I? Don’t worry about me, Sameen. I’ve been doing just fine,” she assures you, and you’re not really feeling assured at the moment. Everything about this makes you feel uncomfortable. You consider re-starting the car and driving off. But then she starts to speak again.

“My mom,” Root says, closing her eyes, gathering her memories, “I watched her self-destruct before her illness took her,” she pauses, opening her eyes and looking at nothing in particular, “She was a brilliant lawyer in a small town. A woman who’s trying to look after her daughter without the aid of anyone else. We were alone. It was just the two of us. I have no father to speak of, and her family died one by one of heart disease. It’s all in our blood, our history,” she says. “She told me we have strong intellect, but weak hearts,” she laughs bitterly. “So no matter how demanding some of her cases were, how stressed she was at her job, she always make it a point to stay calm.” And now, like some pieces of a puzzle clicking together, somehow, you know why Root always try to remain calm in whatever situation she’s in. Poised in the face of danger - the taser, no hand-to-hand combat unless necessary, walking unfazed even under a hail of bullets. _She’s learned it from her mom_ , you thought. You notice you’re still holding her hand, a little tighter than necessary though, so you loosen your grip and gently draw circles at the back of her hand, hoping to soothe her some.

“One day when I was twelve, she fell sick. And she never bounced back from that. Depression. Always thinking about her upcoming death and how she won’t be able to see her little Sam grow up. But even then, she taught me many things, encouraged me to pursue my interests, follow my talents. I listened and it brought me here” she licks her lips, lets go of your hand and rests back on the passenger seat. “When Control was torturing me, the Machine stayed with me. She talked me through it. Kept me calm. I was so terrified but She comforted me through it all.”

After a beat.

“You see, when I went to see Julia, I was actually planning my revenge on Control. But then the kid actually reminded me of myself. Of a child with a busy mother who regarded her as the world. I knew she was the only person important to Control. And when she was telling me stories about how her mom takes care of her, I actually felt sorry for her because her mother barely have time for her. And I can’t believe I thought of taking advantage of her,” Root continues. “The Machine taught me to value life. The sacrifices and the choices we make all adds up to something. They all mean something to someone other than us. I know that now.” _Do you, really?_ “So when we got Control’s number, I knew to try to see the edges of the bigger picture.” _Does the bigger picture not include her with a functioning heart in it?_

“Root, what can I do?” you ask her. _What can I do to get you to care for yourself? To consider your welfare? To keep you from letting you kill yourself slowly?_

“Sameen, there’s just some fights, some battles you’re gonna have to let go and withdraw from, not because you don’t wanna fight them but simply because you’ve got nothing against them. You’re left vulnerable and defenseless, so you might as well cut your losses, especially when you have the chance to gain some advantage in exchange. Giving up this battle inside me is not easy, Sam, but it’s necessary if we want to win the war. And, honestly, after all that I’ve done, I cannot continue living with myself knowing that I’m cheating humanity,” she says with finality. _Completely deflecting the question_.

“Can we please go back to the city? I’m tired,” she says. The silent message of _“there’s really nothing you can do”_ left unspoken. And you want to tell her, beg her if need be, never to use that tone with nothing but resignation on her voice when speaking to you. But you don’t do that. Because then, Root would feel like she needs to hide again, and, at the rate you’re going, you have no idea if that’s somewhere you can follow. You didn’t know any of this before and you regret not taking the time until now.

So you’ll give her something to stay for, something to live for, something to look forward to everyday if she’ll let you. _How do I do that though?_

But for now, you’ll drive her home. You’ll keep her safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More conversations coming up.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re not really one to hope, so instead, you tell yourself Root’s going to be okay.

“Shaw, you’ve got to stop doing that!”

You don’t care that she seems to be annoyed at you, all you know is that Root can’t keep on working herself to death. You don’t know the exact status of her condition, but you can guess that it can only be bad if it warrants a heart transplant.

It’s been four days since the silent car ride back to the city. She asked you to drop her off a corner close enough to the team’s hideout. She didn’t tell you where she’s staying. And her usually teasing invitation for you to join her is absent. It bothered you.

When you first met her, you thought this lunatic deserves your special attention. Special attention that includes a whole lot of pain, but at this point you’ll consider yourself lucky if she’s willing to tolerate your silence and what you can only assume she considers your reluctant presence. You can’t help but wonder to yourself that _Maybe, this is part of some sort of her self-imposed punishment for all the bad she’s done_. You know who you are and how unbearable you could be, which is totally fine by you when it comes to other people. You couldn’t be more relieved to have them leave you be. Root, however, is a totally different case. You know you’d _feel_ much better if she doesn’t wanna leave your side. Somehow the thought of her staying put for the fight but walking away from you sends dread running through your veins. _It’s awfully a lot like leaving anyway_.

She came to the subway this morning to deliver a message to Finch. You found her explaining something you don’t care enough to try to understand with the use of some scrawled text and sketches on a flip chart. _What a nerd_. She’s smiling at Harold as she’s speaking, like a child proudly showing a parent her first perfect score at an exam. You know she wants him to feel comfortable about what you’re all doing, to feel confident to keep on going especially at a time like this when dark times is on the horizon and threatening to take over. She’s offering him warmth just before the cold begins to seep in and affect his judgment. You briefly wonder how someone so full of life can be a little dead inside. You have no idea, but it frightens you.

“Nice drawing,” you said by way of greeting as you enter the cab of your team’s non-locomotive train. You’re impressed, really. But with you, anything can be misinterpreted as sarcasm. You just looked at her though and she nods at you, letting you know that she get it. Before you realize it she’s closed her sketchbook and is already walking towards the exit. You followed her and practically demanded to be let in on the case she’s working on. And here you are, covering her even when there’s not even a hint of danger.

“What!? I just wanted to scout the area. Make sure the coast is clear,” you tell her as you go further inside the number’s room.

“Sameen, I know what you’re doing. Stop it,” she says, sitting in front of the computer and turning it on.

“And what is it I’m doing exactly?” you challenge her. You see, when Root asked you to go back, you didn’t think it was to the way you two were before.

She stays still for a moment “Forget it. Just worry about the mission. Not me. I assure you I can handle myself,” and for her that’s the end of your conversation.

“This conversation is not over yet,” you tell her, but she’s already lost to what she’s doing you doubt she heard you.

The number, one Gareth Johnson, is a programmer in his early 40s working at a start-up company that develops wearable tech. Root’s mission is to simply alter the string of suspicious code that might have something to do with Samaritan. Root informed you that there’s a window of time to break in to his office since he’s out for marriage counselling.

After pressing a key excitedly. Root stands up and asks you if you want to grab a bite with her. You lead her out of the room and before you know it, you’re ushering her to a booth inside a diner three blocks from your number’s office. You both place in your order. Sandwiches and fries.

She’s just sitting across from you, staring out the window. There’s an annoying distance and insufferable silence between you now, but just before you break it, she says “Thank you for looking out for me. It means a great deal to me. Also for coming with me, you know how much I like your company.” She said it so sincerely for it to be a flirting comment. When your eyes meet hers, you almost want to leap out of your seat and hold her close. The moment passed and you didn’t do anything.

And just like that, the internal debate you’ve been having every day since you last saw her is back. You know you're fearless. But you also know you're human. You're confident in your abilities to adapt in any environment and you practically thrive in battle and gun fights, but somehow, in some way, you're not so sure if you'll survive dealing with emotions you cannot comprehend to begin with, so before you do or say anything, you ask yourself this: Are you brave enough to face the possibility of hurting her? Of causing her more heartache? What about losing her? You don't know if you're capable of being happy. You've not much experience in that regard. And you're not sure if you're willing to put Root through the challenge.

But you figure she can’t know if you won’t speak up.

"Root," you say, successfully calling her attention, "I don't know what people mean when they refer to their hearts. I guess that's kinda their way of bearing their feelings, but you know I'm not so good at dealing with that sort of stuff. I can't even understand mine. I went to med school wanting to be a doctor only to be told that I don't have enough capacity to feel, to care for others,” you say carefully. _I’ve been told, on numerous occasions, how it's good I don't let hearts - feelings - get in my way._ “I know I'm different. I've been told it's a good thing. It allows me to do my job with the Marines and then the ISA so well. They all acted around me like I don't have a heart but, you see, even I know it's there. I just don't understand it quite as well as other people do."

She drew her lips tight as if restraining the anger that is bubbling up inside her. Probably mad you’re letting your insecurities show this time. She extends her arms to brush your fingers lightly. “Sameen, you're perfect just as you are,” she says and you almost break into a smile. But you got to stay on track. This is not about you.

“No, Root. Let me finish.” You feel something overwhelming you so you try to get everything out before you back down. “You're a genius. And sometimes I hate that about you - how you seem to know me so well and work things out before I do. But, I guess what I'm saying is you've got me figured out,” you pause for a second to look at her. There are worried lines on her forehead, and her eyes are serious, encouraging you to go on. “Without demanding anything from me, you got me. And these past few days that we're apart gave me time to think, and this is what I know now: I want to protect your heart.”

She turns her head a little and a few seconds later you’re orders are being served. She’s stunned to further silence. Clearly, she’s not expecting that from you. You decide not to be offended. Inconsistencies make life interesting, after all. Once the waitress is gone, you take advantage and continue, “I want you to come to me at the end of the day or when something happened, when you're happy or when you're upset, when you need help or just someone beside you. I know it's not much but I want to be there for you. I'll work on it. So, could you... maybe, not go?”

She’s still not talking. And her eyes are getting bigger as you imagine her contemplating whether she’s imagining all this.

You aren't clingy. She assured you she likes your company and you know for certain that she often lingers because she wants to feel your presence, regardless whether you do something together or not. She's content to occupy, as closely as she can, the same time and space you do. And you know you want that too, so you hold her hand firmly and tell her "I mean, could you please stay…be with me as often as you get the chance?"

She blinks. And then she smiles. That’s all you need to see to make sure you didn’t surprise her too much to cause a heart attack or something. _You never know_.

“Deal,” she says with a smile so bright you’re tempted to ask her to keep smiling like that. You settle for trying to inspire that same smile as often as you can. “I guess I better prepare myself for your upcoming freak outs then,” she adds playfully.

"Freak out? I don't freak out, Root. Wherever did you get that idea?" you ask her incredulously, though you can't help but smile at her too.

You’re not really one to hope, so instead, you tell yourself Root’s going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I've updated. Sorry. Work continues to be demanding lately.
> 
> For those who are sticking around for this story, thank you so much for reading as well as for your patience.
> 
> Feel free to let me know what you guys think. Have good days ahead! :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaw worries about Root so she takes her home.

You're bored out of your mind, sitting alone by the computers at the subway. You're done with the number assigned to you and Reese this morning. Reese went to escort the number to safety so naturally you return to your base of operations looking for something to do. And also, admittedly, looking for a certain someone. She's not here so by default, you think of her.

So here comes the unexpected: Root. It's already known, but it still bears declaration.

After your conversation at the diner the other day, you fear the change that never came. There’s nothing new. There’s nothing different about her. Root still left you after you’re done with your burger and fries, her food almost left untouched. She said she just needed to take care of some things and that she’ll see you later. _Like I’ve never heard that before_ , you thought.

You expected her to show up at your apartment, ideally with some of her belongings. She didn’t come. You don’t know what that says about you. She didn’t show up at the subway yesterday either. But instead of being disappointed or angry, you’re worried. You want to know what she’s doing almost as soon as you parted ways and the urge to call her since then never left you either. You can’t help but think she’s running away from you again, perhaps maybe even avoiding you. _Calm down Shaw. It’s not about you,_ you tell yourself, but you can’t help it. _Is it something I said at the diner?_ you wonder. _Maybe I’m the one who’s changed?_

Your musings were cut off by the sound of the closing door to the hideout followed by footsteps and the sound of laughter. Bear is running towards you, wagging his tail, and you crouch down to greet him. When you look up you see Root and Harold stopping just a few steps before you, both have light smiles on their faces. _That’s gotta be a good sign, right?_

“So you’re back huh,” you address Root standing up.

“Uh-huh,” she singsongs.

“And she’s come bearing uplifting news, Ms. Shaw,” Harold geeks out. “We’re still working on the logistics, but Ms. Groves has acquired us the information that will give us the advantage against Samaritan. We’ll be able to keep it in check, and perhaps even mitigate its control over humanity,” he adds proudly, looking sideways at Root as if giving her an offhanded commendation. _There’s my girl_ , you thought. You catch yourself smiling at them.

“Aww, Harry. You sure know how to make a girl feel special,” Root says teasingly while giving Harold a hug and a kiss on the cheek that’s Root’s way of saying she knows what Finch is doing and she really appreciates it. Harold is slightly blushing, looking both flattered and privileged to receive such gestures of affection from Root.

She turns towards you. She’s watching you and you pale at the thought of her hugging you and kissing you in front of Harold. She walks towards you, tilted her head and then proceeded to smile at you and pat you on your left shoulder with her right hand. Before you know it, she’s gone and is already sitting down on one of the office chairs in front of the computers. You’re slightly offended.

You notice Harold looking at you from the corner of your eye as if he knows something you don’t, which, you realize, should be almost all the time. This is the first time you feel the weight of his stare though. He then proceed to stand behind Root’s chair and advised her to go home and get some rest. Root smiles up at him, and this scene makes you see them as father and daughter. You almost want to thank Harold for his kindness.

Root stands up and starts towards the way that leads above ground. “See ya later, guys,” she says as she rubs Bear’s head a few times before completely disappearing out of view. You turn to look at Harold and say you’re going too, but he just nods at you with a smile still visible on his face. _What a romantic sap_ , you shake your head. _At least I have his blessing_ , you shrug.

You ran towards the exit and catch up to Root.

“Have dinner with me,” you tell her retreating form. You meant to ask but it came as a command. _She’s got no choice now but to agree, right?_

She turns towards you with a blinding smile on her face, her hands gesturing for you to lead the way.

You take advantage of the situation by leading her to your apartment and ordering Chinese. When the boxes were cleared and you’ve both had your fill, you refuse to let her leave.

You end up bringing her a change of clothes to sleep in and dragging her towards your bed where she squeezes your arm in thanks before moving to as much respectable distance as your bed would allow. You briefly wonder if that’s the kind of action you inspire out of Root, aside from inconspicuous touches and innuendos. A little warm affection followed by a cautious retreat so as not to violate your space. She doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, after all this is your apartment. Though truth be told, you wouldn’t mind feeling her beside you while you both sleep. _As it turns out, I could be sensitive when it comes to her_. And you want to be beside her and offer her whatever she’ll need just because you can. You fall asleep thinking how comforting it is to know that Root is safe and sound asleep beside you where you can look after her.

A few moments after you wake up though, you’re alarmed to find Root gone from the side of the bed she slept on.

You’re relieved to walk out of your bedroom to the smell of brewed coffee and the sight of four pancakes stacked on a plate with strips of bacon on the side. There beside the plate is a felt-tip pen and a page torn out of a notebook that says, “Thanks for letting me stay the night. Enjoy your breakfast. See you at the headquarters. –R.” There’s a winky face and boxes drawn together of what you assume forms a laptop beside her signature. You just smile at the note the nerd left you before going out to face the world of codes and numbers. You’re surprised ‘cause it seems as though you’re already full before you even begin to touch the breakfast she’s put together, but you eat them anyway. She prepared them for you after all.

* * *

 

When you walked out of your apartment, you were called to Central Park to tail on a number. When you’re done, you let Lionel take over and rushed to the subway hideout to see if Root is there like she said she would on the note. You haven’t heard from her yet. She’s probably busy working on trying to figure out how to eliminate Samaritan. You think that’s good because then you could convince her to get her transplant as soon as she’s done her part. You just hope she’ll be fine until then.

 _Root is gonna be okay_ , you tell yourself. Nothing bad is gonna happen to her. Not on your watch.

But you know you’re not the only one who’s gonna watch her, so before reaching the station, you pick up a payphone receiver.

“I know you’re listening. I’m worried about her. Do you know if there’s anything I can do for her?”

Your phone beeps. You’ve got a message.

STAY.

“Is that all?” you can’t believe that’s all the Machine thinks you can do for Root. You want Her to tell you to help Root do something. _I need to do something practical. Like a mission to lighten Root’s load and keep her from working herself to death._

YES.

“Why didn’t you stop her from coming back anyway? You should’ve forced her to go on with the transplant.” _She listens to you_. “Now you’re at the risk of losing your most valued asset.” _Maybe emotionally manipulating the Machine could help your cause_.

I DON’T WANT TO LOSE HER EITHER.

The Machine knows what you’re doing.

BUT ANALOG INTERFACE IS EXERCISING FREE WILL.

SHE’S PRIORITIZING HER OWN OBJECTIVES.

“She told us as much.” You wonder when you began to talk to the Machine as if she’s a friend and you’re out talking trivial things over tea. “I… ah… I just wish there’s something more we could do.”

WE WILL PROTECT HER.

TOGETHER.

An idea came to you and you’re tempted to tell the Machine She’s a genius but She’s already aware of that so you just mumble thanks and return the receiver to its cradle. You continue towards the subway to fetch Root. You’re taking her home with you.

* * *

 

Everything happened the same as last night, except tonight you can’t sleep. Root is already deep asleep beside you and you’re still worrying about her as if she’s not there. _This is fear_ , you try to recognize what you’re feeling. _Whether this is fear of losing her or loving her, I don’t know yet._

When Root shifted, you try to even out your breathing to make it seem as if you’re fast asleep. She turns towards you and whispers, “You’re too important to me, Sameen,” just like a confession. “I love you. I’ll take your equivalent of that if you’ll give it,” she says this like it’s both a decision and a negotiation she’s thought through for days. And maybe that’s actually the case why she’s left the diner some days ago.

You suspect she knows you’re awake as you can feel her staring at you for a couple of seconds before placing a light kiss on your forehead and moving to leave your bed. You’re tempted to reach out to her, to ask her to stay. You wonder if she will.

You decide nothing of note happened today save for the way it started and ended where you have Root safe and sound beside you.

* * *

 

When you feel her leave your bed this morning, you decide not to be afraid to show her what she means to you. You wanna laugh at the absurdity of the thought of you being scared if it weren’t for the fact that this is you you’re talking about. You realize you can only fear losing Root if you actually have her. And though you know you do, you figure it would be nice to actually let her know her feelings are appreciated and will be reciprocated if she can be patient with you and stay safe and alive to have it.

She’s already dressed when you found her reaching for the knob on your door. You rush to get to her and hug her from behind. You hold on to her like a child afraid to let go of a balloon for fear of letting it float away and not seeing it again. _So this is what I’m scared of. It’s not her. It’s knowing I might not have her_.

You feel her hold your hands and carefully say, “It’s all gonna be alright, Sameen.” She knows you too well not to know what this is about. You feel a lump in your throat and you don’t want to let go so she just turns around in your embrace to look at you and kiss you on your right cheek, her lips lingering for a few seconds too long. It’s meant to be a silent reassurance and ‘thank you.’ When she pulls back and watches you closely, you know she’s waiting for a reaction. You sense fear and doubt in her eyes so before she can disentangle herself from you, you move your right hand to act as if you’re wiping the traces of her kiss from your cheek while rolling your eyes, and she lightly laughs at that. And when the fear and doubt melts away from her eyes, you stand on your tiptoes to give her a quick kiss on her lips. She looks stunned so you just pull her towards you to hug her again. She pulls to hug you tighter. And you swear that neither of you wants to let go. And you’re totally fine with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's try to get Root to agree to her treatment next chapter.
> 
> For those still reading this story, thanks for reading.
> 
> Wishing you guys good days. :)


	11. Chapter 11

“What do you think this is, Sameen?” Root asks you.

“I’m not sure yet,” you tell her honestly “but it’s definitely something,” You wonder, _is she asking me to label what we have?_ “We’re involved. With each other. That much I know,” you say with as much conviction as you can muster despite your confusion.

You’re both standing in the sidewalk. You’re on your way back to your apartment when she stops and tells you she needs to leave for DC in an hour to help Control set up a new team, and you wouldn’t let her go, alone or at all. You’re gripping at her arms. You’re holding her so tight you know you’re hurting her.

 “I used to wish for this, even fantasized about us being together from time to time; about you stopping me and never wanting to let go, but Sameen, now’s not the time,” she says. She takes a shaky breath, “So I think we should stop whatever this is while we’re both ahead. While we don’t know yet what this is or what it means for either of us.”

The world didn’t stop but it might as well have. You’re drawing blanks inside your head, not knowing where this is coming from. You don’t like what’s going on. You don’t like this at all.

You fear that she would disappear, especially since she’s supposed to be leaving at the Machine’s behest. You take a moment to look at her, searching her face for a clue as to what she really wants. You try to remember her confession when you were faking sleep. _“I love you. I'll take your equivalent of that if you'll give it.”_ There’s the truth right there, so that could only mean that what’s she’s saying now is something Root is putting up like a form of a defense against whatever it is that you don’t know. Or you don’t want to know.

 _She’s running away to protect you._ You think that’s unfair because you’ve known for a while now that you want to be with her and keep her safe.

“Just let me go with you, Root. You know I can help,” you’re not above begging if it meant keeping her alive.

“I get that you’re worried about me, Sameen, but please stop. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be. I’m prepared to die but I want to live too,” she tries to disentangle your hold from her arm and takes both of your hands in hers. “I want to fight to live. To be with you.  But this doesn’t just concern you and me, and you knew that from the very beginning. We don’t have to be the last persons on earth, I assure you. But we have to make sure that the Machine’s with us or else we’re doomed. If the Machine’s with us then maybe someday we’ll get our chance. Maybe then we’ll be able to make this work,” she says.

 _Can we break up before even having the chance to be together_ , you ask yourself. This is so damn confusing.

“Why not now, Root? You’re here and so am I, we can work on this if we both really want to,” there’s a hint of accusation in your tone as if to say that Root doesn’t really want this, whatever this is that’s going on between the two of you.

Root drops your hands. “Because it’s cruel to breathe hope into this uncertainty, Sameen. I can’t give you something that’s counting down only for it to blow up in your face. I can’t do that to you even if you say you don’t feel pain, even if you claim you won’t be affected. Just having the possibility to consider that I have the undesired privilege to be the one that could maybe inflict some semblance of pain to you is too unbearable for me to think about.” Root is shaking her head as if to erase the images in her mind. “It hurts me. I can’t. Please, don’t make me.”

“But Root, your heart…” you can’t even finish your sentence.

“I know,” she says almost reverently. “But if the Machine’s not here, you know we’re doomed, right?” she’s trying to make you understand the gravity of the situation you’re all in. “She has to live.” _So do you_ , you want to drill into her mind. “She’s our only hope for survival. And the world can’t afford not to have her.” _My world can’t even grasp at the possibility of not having you_. “Without her, we might as well die.” _You’ll die anyway if you’ll keep on putting off your transplant like that._ “And I’m not about to let that happen to any of you, so you can’t stop me from doing this to take care of just myself. There’s a lot at stake. I need her. We all do.” _Exactly my sentiments about you!_ You hate everything about this. She’s so prepared to do anything but so reluctant to walk away. _Ugghh._

“So how about this, as soon as we get through this, I’ll ask Her to find me a new heart. Deal?” she asks you smiling innocently.

“As if there’s another way I could get you to get that heart,” you say with a little smile.

She’s starting to move away from you now, walking walking backwards, “Oh, believe me, Sweetie, there is. You just haven’t figured it out yet,” she winks at you and turns away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I had to take down the original Chapter 11 without consulting you guys. While I liked where it was going, I thought it was too compressed compared to the rest of this fic. Some of the events there would still happen in future chapters though. Though how they'll unfold would probably be different.
> 
> Just thought maybe I should elaborate on this story more since I find myself missing the show more and more every day. 
> 
> Please let me know what you guys think. Thanks for reading. :)


	12. Chapter 12

Root came back from D.C. a week later. You’re waiting on Reese to come back to the hideout so you could stitch him up when she appeared. She brought Finch a new computer and the rest of the team some pastries she said she’s baked with Julia while Control dealt with some things. As it turns out, they’ve managed to set up a team in the capital to help with the Machine’s current predicament. It’s something to do with firmwares and updates. Root and Harold talked so fast and excitedly for you to follow. It has to be good though since Root just showed Harold a program installed on the laptop she brought him and then they leave it running in the background.

You watch Root settle down, taking a seat on the subway car. She leans back and closed her eyes. You figured she must be tired, more so than usual, since forming a team and fighting off Samaritan can’t be that easy, especially when you have to shed your identity every few days. She looks paler than usual. And the bags under her eyes would help you prove that she’s slept less than she should’ve been given her condition. She’s running herself thin, and you don’t know whether to feed her or send her home first.

A beep from the laptop caused her to open her eyes and abruptly move towards it. She pulls out the chair as Finch approached and stood behind him to look at the screen. You follow her.

“You were right, Ms. Groves. Samaritan does have a system of sorts that allows all its infected equipment to communicate in codes,” Finch begins. “If we could manage to apply extreme caution while we figure out how we can use this system to our advantage, then our chance at stopping Samaritan would increase,” he adds without taking his eyes off the monitor. There are numbers and letters all jumbled together. It doesn’t really make sense to you. _Maybe I should try learning code?_ You let the idea simmer, _might help me understand her more._

“Don’t worry, Harry. That’s what we’re working on now,” Root says. “I’ve already tested this back in D.C. and just wanted to show you how it works. Fun, right?” she says with a smile and a little wiggle of her eyebrows. And then suddenly she stops

You know Root’s a good actress, a master manipulator of sorts, but even a professional thespian like her couldn’t hide actual, physical pain when it hits her. It’s only for a split second. It could’ve been just your imagination, but seeing her slight smile turn into a grimace and noticing her tightened hold at the back of Harold’s chair, you know you know better. Harold’s yet to be clued in but it’s very evident to you that she’s hurting. But then she covered it all up pretty quickly and proceeded to point at the screen to show Harold something. _It’s as if nothing happened._

“Anyway, She’s running simulations now, so there’s really not much we can do at the moment,” she says. “Guess I better catch some z’s now while I can.” That last sentence is directed at you. She winks at you before she moves to leave.

You’re so tempted to follow her to ask her how she is, join her for a meal, and to freakin’ point out she’s not okay. _Where the hell is John!?_

* * *

A couple of hours later, after you’ve ordered John to rest, you leave the station to hunt for Root. You still don’t know where she’s staying so that could only mean one thing: it’s time to catch up with your almighty friend. So, logically, you pick up the phone.

“I know you told me to stay, but come on, we have to do something.”

You only meant to ask her where Root is, but _I guess that’s really what’s at the forefront of my mind._ You’re worried. Nobody can fault you for that. _Aside from Root, I guess. ‘Cause really, that lady can make me feel bad even when all I wanted to do is keep her safe._

_“Shaw, I can’t do that. The Machine needs me.”_

_“Sameen, it’s okay. I’m practically dead anyway.”_

_“I’ve got a new heart for you to play with, Sweetie.”_

That last one is the cruel version of Root that keeps on screwing with your head lately. Most of the times you think of her as the perky pyscho she is, but lately, she’s more like Eeyore. You remember that one time you almost assign everyone on the team a Winnie the Pooh character just to hear her laugh again. That was back when she’s had limited communication with the Machine.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, successfully pulling you out of your reverie. There’s a message from an unknown number. An address.

“Thanks. But we better think of something soon. It’s getting worse,” and then you hang up.

* * *

It’s past midnight when you reach the address. The door is locked so you pick it. _Root won’t mind, right?_ Not knowing what you’ll find, you enter the apartment as silently as you can.

You can hear Root’s voice somewhere further inside. You maintain your stealth so as not to surprise her. When you glanced at the direction of her voice, you can see her holding a camera to her face. You press yourself further to the wall, hoping to remain hidden.

“But you ought to be really careful. I know I told you Harold, the world is full of bad codes, it still is. But the Machine showed me that it’s possible for good code to exist as well. She helped me find you, and Sameen, and the big lug, I mean John, and Lionel and Bear,” she says a little adoringly.

 _What’s she doing?_ you wonder.

“I know this might sound cliché, but believe me, I mean it literally when I say you guys mean the world to me. We may be ripped apart temporarily, but don’t worry, we’re all alive in the Machine.”

And then it hit you, she’s saying goodbye. You’re struck so suddenly that you ended up slowly sliding down the wall where you’re hiding.

“Because of you Harold, the world will not come to an end. Please, take care of Her. She needs you. She always will. Thank you for creating Her. She gave me everything – purpose, direction, and friendship. She taught me so much and made me more than who was once Samantha Groves. She lead me to you. And you have been, to me, the father I never had. Please take care of yourself, Harry.”

You hear Root inhale deeply.

“Hiya, big lug,” there’s a hint of a smile in her voice. You know she’s come to be fond of John. “Who would’ve guessed you could warm up to me? We’ve been through so much together, haven’t we? Though initially not on the same side. You’ve become a brother to me. You’ve always been a great protector and ally, but you know as well as I do that not everyone can be saved. You might not believe me when I say this, but I’ve known for a while now that you mean a great deal to the world. You’re a real hero, John. Remember that.”

There are tears streaming down your face. You silently suffer as Root records her messages.

“Lionel, Cocoapuffs has to leave now. I know you’ll miss me,” Root says through her tears and you decide you’ve heard enough.

You can’t bear to hear or see Root like this any longer. There’s just too much agony in everything that she’s saying for there to be any space for hope. _It’s like she’s given up._ And no, you can’t have that. You can’t let her keep thinking like that so you wipe what _little_ tears have managed to escape your eyes with your sleeves and stand up. You take a deep breath and move towards her, determined to stop her from her self-imposed torture session. You pry the recorder out of her hands and envelope her in your tight embrace. You hang on to her like letting go is not an option for you anymore. You suppose it never will be again when it comes to Root.

 “Root, you gotta stop this,” you tell her. “Please, stop this,” and you’re holding her as you both stumble towards the floor. You refuse to let go, fearing that she might disappear all of a sudden.

You cry together. And  when both your tears run dry, she tugs at your hands in the direction of her bedroom. You kiss her as she lie down. _I don’t wanna let go_ , you want to tell her, but since you can’t seem to find your voice, you show her. And she pays you back in kind, kissing you back just as selfishly as you kiss her again and again. You lay down beside her and hold her through the night.

Tomorrow, you’ll find a way for Root to be better.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to re-create the Chapter I've deleted with more details. Not sure if this is better or not though.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading. Your continuous support means a lot to me as they encourage me to write more and try to make things better.
> 
> Have good days ahead guys! :)


	13. Chapter 13

You know this for a fact: Root is good at everything. _Well, except maybe winking, but that's beside the point._ If you were asked 'What can't she do?' you know what your answer will be - **Root can't die**. And if forced to expound on your answer, you'll extend it up to the point that you'll enumerate the number of times Root was severely (though only temporarily) incapacitated or injured while intercepting criminals or fighting Samaritan and how she still manages to get out of whatever situation, outsmarting every opponent gracefully, if not a little too arrogantly. She's invincible like that. Or so you want to keep believing.

If everything's up to you, Root would not be allowed to so much as be threatened, which would be great and all, but sadly, nothing is.

Root told you just the other night how that saying goes: You can’t run away from yourself. She can’t outrun her only weakness, which is her heart. Not you. She’s mentioned numerous times now how you are her heart. You refuse to acknowledge that sentiment, not because that’s sappy as hell (though it _really_ is) but because you refuse to be Root’s weakness. If anything, you want to be her strength, her reason to keep on fighting and going on - her reason to keep on living because, as you suspect for a while now, that’s who she is to you.

As fearless as Root is, and as terrifying as she can be, seeing Root now, dodging bullets from your current number, you can't help but feel fear. For her. As soon as you’ve eliminate your number’s attackers, she backed away from both you and Root, firing one of the guns she’s managed to snatch from her attackers. Maggie Forster is not trained with firearms so you advise Root to just wait it out and let her run out of bullets. It happened sooner than later, Maggie ran out of bullets after she fired shot number two and you see Root nods her head at you to say she’s got this while making her way over to Maggie to explain the situation.

You know you’re both in denial. You about Root’s mortality and Root about her living on. Root’s mindset is the only thing that pretty much makes you feel defeated these days. And you can’t shake that feeling off because you know each day that passes is a day that Root is in even more risk than anybody on your group of misfits. Danger may be part of work hazards, but if coming to harm can be avoided then that should be prioritized.  _Right?_

“Shaw, you busy?” John asks, interrupting your thoughts.

“Just finishing up a number, Reese. Any particular reason why you’re bugging me?” you shot back.

“Got a bit of a situation here. Need back up. Finch will send you the address.” Then the line goes dead.

True enough, you got instructions from Finch a minute later. You walk towards Root and you hear her say “Thought you’d never ask.” You tap her on her shoulder and when she turns around she has an apologetic look on her face.

“Sweetie, I’m gonna have to leave you to your own devices. Gotta head to the subway. Harry said he needs me to at something,” Root says.

“I was just about to tell you John called. Said he’s in a bit of a situation,” you tell her.

“Oh, I’m sure that’s nothing the two of you can’t handle,” she croons sweetly. You smile a little at that.

“See you later, Root,” you say as you back away from her.

“Absolutely,” she answers.

* * *

 

You hold up your hand to stop John from going any further down the stairs to the subway platform.

“How terribly sweet that you think I’d weigh so much value to the Machine, Harold,” you both hear Root quip. “In case you didn’t notice, you built a god, Harry. And She believes in you so much you only have to show Her the road and she’ll take care of the rest.”

 _How many times am I going to overhear Root’s conversation with everybody?_ you mentally ask yourself. You think you’re too deep now to back out. You glance at Reese and he holds up his pointer finger to his lips to signal that the both of you should keep quiet and nods towards the station so that you can both keep on spying your nerds like it was his idea. You roll your eyes.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that Ms. Groves. No. I will not sacrifice you for the Machine,” Harold exclaims with pure disgust on his tone as if entertaining the idea alone sickens him. “If I have to pick between you,” he says slowly this time, “and Her, you should know me better to believe that I will choose you, even if, as you keep on pointing out, She is my child.”

You can tell Harold is really worried for Root.

“Why should my continued existence matter to Her? She’s a god, Harold. She takes precedence over a string of bad code, no matter how many good codes may have overwritten my system,” Root insists. You can feel a flash of anger and disappointment run through your veins. Root’s certainly expanding your feelings and emotions palette, isn't she? _How can she be so insensitive? Doesn’t she know we all really care for her?_

“Even if the Machine respects your decision, Ms. Groves, that doesn’t make this any less unappealing. Surely you know we all value your contributions and have come to genuinely care about your welfare. We neither want nor wish you any harm, Root,” Harold says genuinely.

“What would be the point, Harry? Other than delaying the inevitable,” Root replied. And for once you can hear the desperate tone in Root’s voice. You have half the mind to burst in there and demand to be let in on what’s going on. “I’d rather be here with all of you than risk having to come back only to find one, if not all, of you missing.”

John reaches out to squeeze your arms.

“Ms. Groves...” Harold begins but then you see John walking towards them.

“It’ll hardly be a victory without you, Root,” John says in his deep, gravelly voice.

  You decide to walk out of hiding.

“Root.”

Root turns toward you with a small smile on her face. You wanna punch her for pretending to be okay.

“How’s my favorite firecracker?” she asks with fake honey-dipped voice.

You don’t wanna waste time rolling your eyes so you just answer, “Better than you. What’s this all about?”

You can feel John’s heated stare pointed at you. Before Root can say anything, Harold interjects. “The Machine’s found Ms. Groves a new heart, and Ms. Groves refuses to see light or reason.”

Root narrows her eyes at Harold. She shakes her head and turns around to walk away.

“Root,” suddenly your voice is low and threatening. You can feel the tension rising around you. “The only reason for you to be walking out that damn door better be because you’re gonna get that new heart inside your chest, otherwise, I swear to the Machine, she’ll be an Analog Interface short earlier than anticipated after I plant a bullet right in there.”

Root just looks at all of you with betrayal in her eyes.. And somehow you dread what’s gonna happen next.

“You only have an hour to get to the hospital Ms. Groves. You better get going,” Finch says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for taking this long to update. Life happens and it's not so good right now. But I'll try to update as soon as I can. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading. Hope you're all doing much better. :)


	14. Chapter 14

“Aren’t we supposed to be saving lives here? Doesn’t that include yours, Root?” you ask when the tension becomes too suffocating. _One hour. We’re on a countdown here, people. Move._ If they ask you, you’d tell them this standoff is unnecessary. John would be much useful helping you haul Root’s stubborn ass to the hospital.

“That’s different, Sameen,” Root shot back defensively.

“Different how?” you challenged. Root just deflates. She sets her eyes on the floor, unmoving.

You exchange glances with John and Harold. _Is she crying? Shouldn’t someone stand there next to her and console her?_ Your team’s colored in different shades of concerned and puzzled. You’d laugh if you can find the humor, but there’s only panic in your mind that’s also reflected in the eyes of your friends. Somewhere right now a clock is ticking.

“Root,” John gently calls out to her.

A beat and then Root begins lifting her head. You almost wish she’s crying because the sight that greets you is worst. Her eyes are brimming with dread, fear, and unshed tears.

You know Root enjoys torturing people. You wonder if the same thing applies here, but you honestly doubt it. Not for anything other than the fact that she’s not smiling. Gone are the traces of pleasure or excitement that’s usually humming behind Root’s crazy, beautiful eyes. That’s when you know this is hurting her too. This is not a form of torture she’d willingly inflict on anyone.

Unlike you, or John, or Harold who are simply worried for her, you know there’s so much more Root is not letting any of you on. It’s decidedly unspeakable for her, but you think you know it anyway. _If somebody knows Root more than the Machine, it should be me._

She knows whatever decision she’ll make will hurt all of you, and she’s afraid to hurt any of you because she’s come to value all of you. She’s afraid that she found people who are scared to lose her only for her to leave them or lose them. She knows the odds. You do too because of your medical training. She knows that whatever happens to her will hurt all of you either way. If her condition is too critical, she might not make it out of that operating table. The difference is you can tell yourself she can come back okay too. You have hope. You have to.

She’s afraid to claim the affection, the love thoughtfully presented, generously given to her. It’s overwhelming. You know. You understand. _That’s how I feel about you too._ You want to let her know that, but is now the right time?

But you think she’s mostly afraid to live on. That’s what she fears the most. That and the possibility of outliving any of you should she come out of her operation in better health. In her mind, she’s prepared to die for this war, for her god, and for the only family she’s found for herself. Defending the world is just an added perk. But she’s so not ready to leave. Not without the guarantee that she’s done everything to save all of you. _She’s a prophet after all_. And that makes her unwilling to live. Or at least unwilling to live through anything with even just one of you missing. _Hell, just knowing there’s a threat for any one of us makes her come running to our rescue_. You shake your head, impressed and exasperated at her stubbornness at the same time. _This woman is really something._

“Fine,” Root finally says, letting out a deep breath after your stares have successfully made her sick. “Don’t worry” she says through a tired smile and then she turns around and begins to walk away. You’re already moving to follow her when you feel a hand on your right arm stop you. Knowing who’s left with you, it takes all of your will power not to grab Harold’s hand and break at least two of his fingers. John’s on standby.

“You can’t go with her, Ms. Shaw,” Finch tells you regretfully, taking his hand off you slowly. “None of us can.”

“The hell I can’t Finch. Of course I can,” you say with emphasis on the last word. “What I don’t understand is why you’re stopping me when you should be going with her too. I thought you’re her friend Harold. She can’t be alone right now.”

Harold’s taken aback, whether by the length of your response or by the obvious concern in your choice of words, you don’t know.

“I’m aware of her predicament, Ms. Shaw. And I care for her too, deeply,” he says turning aside, unable to meet your eyes. “But that’s the arrangement. We cannot go with her or stay with her. It’ll put her and us in greater peril. She’ll have to go through the operation and recover without attracting any more attention than her medical condition requires. We,” he pauses to wet his lips, “can’t stay in touch with her. We can only trust the Machine to keep her safe.”

You can only look at Harold with so many questions racing through your mind, beginning with: _Why the hell didn’t you mention this earlier!?_ You could’ve at least walked her out of the subway station. You could’ve held her hand. You could’ve hugged her, even. You could’ve said some of the things you’re prepared to let her know now. You could’ve offered her something more than the undefined and the unmentioned between the two of you. You regret that the last things Root heard you say are practically a threat to her life and a challenge to her reasoning. You know you could’ve at least done or said something much better than that.

“Guys,” John calls both your and Harold’s attention to the screen on the subway car. Words appear on the screen as you all begin to walk towards it.

ANALOG INTERFACE

CARDIAC TRANSPLANT

SURGERY TO BE PERFORMED AS SOON AS POSSIBLE

WHILE ORGAN IS STILL VIABLE

WITHIN THE HOUR

SUCCESS RATE: 79.63%

STAY

I GOT HER

And then you’re left with a flashing cursor. This is where you imagine there to be a collective sigh of relief, but after a moment John just starts back towards the lockers and Harold settles in his chair. _Look at us, it’s as if half an hour ago we weren’t desperately trying to get Root to take that heart,_ you want to shake your head at your teammates’ attempt to appear unbothered by concern for your resident psycho. You know somehow the odds comforted them. Knowing they’re not likely to lose somebody they care for allows them to return to normal. They have faith. There’s not much they can do anyway, except trust Root and the Machine. You suppose you could do the same, but still, the success rate leaves something more for you to desire. It’s not a hundred percent and you’re neither satisfied nor comforted by that uncertainty. You want to hear Root’s voice tell you it’s all gonna be alright, maybe then you’ll believe her odds. And maybe then you could confidently tell her you’re looking forward to a long life of surviving different odds with her. Maybe then she’ll believe what she’s doing will be worth it.

Because you know Root’s doing this against her better judgment. Against what she really wants and that is to fight for everything she has. She needs to believe that she’s fighting to keep it, to have it for much longer than just keeping it all safe. She needs to know that the world will crumble if she’s not there to keep them all together. She needs to know that as noble as it is to die for something, she can live and continue to be a friend, a hero, a presence and a force for all that she holds dear to her heart.

 _Fine. Don’t worry._ You repeat Root’s words in your mind. The ones she said before she left.

You know that Root is only agreeing to give living on a chance because she knows that’s the only thing that will keep the lot of you off her back pushing her every time there’s a chance. She also doesn’t want to unnecessarily distract or burden any of you, and thus affect your missions. All things considered, you can conclude that she agreed to get that heart transplant for all of you so that you can all stop worrying about her on top of surviving. Just like how she is with her solo missions. She can give you all you need and you can confidently leave the rest to her. She’s still doing this to look out for the team.

She’s agreeing to live on for all of you, so all of you better be there when she comes back.  And if it’s up to you, this is the last time you’ll leave her to be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm slightly back. I'm sorry it took a while to update and that the story's progressing slowly. I have this story in mind, but I'm still recovering, and not at the pace that I want. I'm not sure about this chapter, though I think it's one way to expand the story. Let me know what you think. Also, thanks for reading. Hope you're all doing much better.  
> ___  
> Please excuse the grammar and punctuation errors. I haven't had the chance to check this and I only typed this on a tablet instead of an actual computer.


	15. Chapter 15

Based from your medical training you know that a heart transplant usually requires about a couple of weeks of hospitalization. Recovery has to be in an ICU where exposures to bacteria or infections are contained. You know proper care and support is needed, which clearly Root doesn’t have. And you also know that it can take up to about half a year before anyone who underwent this kind of operation can return to normal, day-to-day activities.

Root’s day-to-day activities, however, is far from normal. She moves so smoothly, putting on identities like clothes and leaping from one mission to another without so much as an inkling of concern whether there’s a safety net to catch her just in case she slips, that nobody can tell when things begin to go haywire on her, so you can only imagine how difficult recovery will be for her and everyone around her. Which brings you to another pain point – _When will I get the chance to be around her again?_

It’s been four days since she left for the transplant. Every day you don’t hear from her is a needle to, what she’s reduced to, your pin cushion of a heart. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s uncomfortable as hell. None of you got any updates yet as to the status of her condition. The logical part of your brain suspects that she could just be nearby, what with the one hour limit she had to beat that day you know it’s possible. You try not to worry because you know the Machine will inform either you or Harold should something go wrong. But the more you try to push the worry out of your mind, the more dread seeps into your consciousness and the more unease you become. _I’m not asking for a Bat-signal here, just a message will do. Hell, I’ll settle for Morse code if that’ll do. I just need to know that she’s okay._

You don’t understand why none of you are allowed to be with her or even just check on her. _Visiting a patient in a hospital, especially one with Root’s condition, couldn’t be that dangerous or deadly, could it?_ You’re tempted to ask the Machine to let you see her or even just to talk to her and see if she’s recovering nicely, but the agreement stands, you don’t want Root to think that you don’t trust her or the Machine so instead you try to emanate the one trait Root’s exuded since the very beginning and none on your team could come close to replicate – faith.

Root’s faith in the Machine and the team is never-ending. You admire that about her. Even though her constant belief that everything is part of some sort of higher plan is something you’ve yet to grasp, you know you ought to believe her when she says that the Machine is looking out for her. _“The Machine is protecting us all, Sameen,”_ she tells you during one of her leisure times when she’s just out to bug you and the rest of the team. _“But that doesn’t mean I can’t worry about you,”_ she added in a teasing tone touched up with only a little hint of truth. You think you understand her now. But still not as much as you’d like.

Your reveries were cut off by your ringing phone.

“Hi Sameen, you miss me?” Root says on the other line. Have your thoughts summoned her call? You don’t know, but you’re glad she sounds good just the same.

“Root. Where are you? How are you?” you began firing away.

“Don’t worry sweetie. I’m fine. They fixed me.” _Wow, it’s all better now that they fixed you._ Seriously, this woman is just asking for eye rolls every time you talk to her.

Before you can even begin you reply, she speaks again, “Listen Sameen, we have a favor to ask you” The Machine and Root are a _we_ , and your chest tightens a little when you realize they always will be.  She relays to you some directions to a hotel in Louisiana “3 knocks, 1 tap, 3 knocks. Be good. And please take the hard-drive to Harry. Thanks, sweetie. Talk to you later.” And just like that the line is dead.

 _Why does it feel like Root is still on some kind of mission instead of recovering from a heart transplant?_ You shake your head. Root just might be the end of you.

* * *

After advising Harold of your solo assignment, you immediately made your way to that hotel in Louisiana. You’re now standing in front of a door, one hand in your gun while the other knocking just like Root instructed you to. The door opens swiftly and you should’ve known better than to expect a normal assignment. Root likes surprising you after all.

“You’re not Sam,” says the voice that greeted you. Julia.

 _Uhm… yeah, I am._ “Uh… yeah.” _Great. Speechless in front of a child. Good going, Sameen._ You’ve executed the perfect face-palm in your head. Somewhere at the back of your mind, you still can’t equate Root to Sam. She’ll always be Root.

“Agent Shaw,” says a woman from inside the room. Control. “Please come in.” And then she starts toward one of the doors inside the room.

You don’t know what’s going on. Last you heard, Control’s in D.C. That was back when Root left you on the side of the street. And before that, you sent her along with her daughter off to some country or another to hide and start a normal life. You realize you’re not good with tiny bits of information. Root’s the one who content to do this, but not you. You need the bigger picture.

“Where’s Sam?” Julia asks you.

“Uh… she has another matter to attend to,” you tell her.

“Is she coming back soon?” she asks with a pout.

You lower yourself to look her in the eyes and with a small smile you sincerely answer “I hope so, kid.”

Julia smiles at you and then she runs towards the TV and takes the small paper bag beside it to you.

“Can you please give this to Sam when you see her? It’s a snow globe, just like the one her mom used to have. I hope she’ll like it,” Julia says bashfully and you feel something akin to sadness weigh you down.

You wonder, not for the first time, how much Root has told this kid and why she hasn’t told you any of this stuff.

When Control returns to the room, she hands you the hard-drive and you leave as fast as your feet will allow.

* * *

You try to sleep off your misery as soon as you got home and changed. You’re not sure how you can reach the only person you’d like to talk to. Some time between then and now, you must’ve drifted off. Looking at your bedside clock you can see that it’s already half past 2 a.m. and you have a good guess who’s calling you at this ungodly hour.

“Root.”

_I guess now is a better time as any to get to know you better._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little update for now. My plans for this chapter was longer than I thought so I've decided to cut it in half. Root and Shaw's phone conversation should be on the next chapter where they try ti get to know each other better since Root can't come back yet.
> 
> Let me know what you guys think. And thanks for reading and for sticking with this story. Hope you're all doing okay, or much better. :)


	16. Chapter 16

“Sam.”

 “Root, it’s late. Did something happen?” you ask her while thumping down the worry that’s beginning to creep up your voice, threatening to permanently embed itself with your every conversations with Root.

“Nothing like that, sweetie. I just couldn’t sleep,” Root mumbled. “Sorry to wake you up.”

If you ignore it hard enough, you can pretend everything’s normal and Root’s just on a mission, still helping the team from wherever and tonight she just wanted to some company, someone to help fill the silence surrounding her. It’s not the first time that this sort of thing happened, solo missions can be lonely, you suppose. But you find that concern can be really overpowering.

“It’s fine. Me either,” you try to deny that she woke you but you know she knows she did anyway. You don’t want her to think she’s disturbing you at all. You’ve been waiting to hear from her since the line dropped abruptly yesterday. _What is it with you, Shaw?_ You’re stunned when you realize how much you’ve changed. _Probably not the right term, but still._ You used to shrug Root’s advances and efforts to communicate off, but now you feel like letting her do and say whatever she pleases. _So long as it’s her. It pretty much doesn’t matter whatever it is._ It seems like you’re more than fine with just knowing she’s with you in some way or form now.

She doesn’t say anything else, but you know she’s there. You settle back on your bed, fiddling with your sheets, staring up at the ceiling.

“Root? You still with me?” you ask anxiously.

“Always, Sam,” she answers openly.

“Will you stay on the line with me? Just for a while, I mean?” you ask. There are a lot of things about Root that you didn’t know. You wanted to ask her about so many things. You want her to give you more than just tiny details about who she is, to trust you, to reveal herself completely to you. You want more of her. But the thing is you don’t know how to ask. You don’t know what she’s willing to share and what she’s already let go. You’re ashamed to admit but it feels like you don’t know her at all.

“Of course, Sameen. I can do that,” she whispers.

For a while none of you talk, probably both too lost in thoughts that haunt your realities. You close your eyes and imagine your breathing in sync with hers. _Will she tell me things I want to know if I ask?_  you wonder. The fact that this woman seems to talk in riddles and metaphysics half the time is not lost to you.

“Tell me a story,” you demand.

She didn’t answer but there’s a small chuckle on the other line, you visualize her taking a deep breath and nodding, with her bright eyes and big smile, and you take it as Root’s agreement.

“Okay. Once upon a time,” Root begins.

“A true story, Root,” you interrupt her. You’re hoping she’ll tell you something that’ll peel off a layer to the mystery that is Root.

“And how do you know what I’m telling you is untrue? You haven’t even let me finish a single sentence?” Root asks you with amusement in her voice. You enjoy this playful banter with her. _Hey, this is not bad at all._

“Uh-huh,” you say suspiciously, raising an eyebrow as if she can see.

“Alright. Alright,” she pause for a moment, “So, once upon a time, there was a happy family. There was a mom, a dad, and two daughters. They used to live in a small town, in a small house, leading normal lives. The dad works in an office, but he made sure to make time for his family. The mom stays at home, taking care of the household. The eldest child was 9 years old at the time, she was a consistent honor student, never got into any trouble. She’s close with her little sister too. They were best friends. For a while it was perfect. They’re not rich or glamorous, but people envied them anyway.”

 _What’s Root going on about now?_ You’re confused. You feel like Root’s just humoring you.

“One day though, the mom got bored of her ordinary, perfect little life, so out of the blue, she asked her husband for a separation. There’s no actual reason. She just felt like they needed to no be together. Nobody understood what was going on back then. There was a lot of screaming, and pleading, and shut doors, and empty spaces,” she says withdrawn. “There was a lot of heartbreak and disappointment too.”

You want to ask her to stop. Maybe change the story, but she goes on.

“The mom thought the dad will fix things. She just wants a story out of the entire ordeal, after all. But the dad got tired after several attempts of changing the mom’s mind. He refused to keep on trying and in the end he just respected what his wife wanted,” Root paused and there’s an incredulous laugh that follow. “When the mom realized the gravity of her actions, how much she’s hurt these people she claims she loves, it was too late. The dad was already convinced his wife gave up on their family and the children were resentful of their mother. It was awful, Sam, and the mom doesn’t know how to correct her mistake so she just went on with the separation.”

_What does this have to do with Root?_

“The thing is Sam, when some people make up their minds, when he or she gets bored or is unwilling to stay, when they’ve already resigned themselves to what the future holds for them, none of what you say or do will matter. Nothing will change their mind. Pride gets in the way. None of the consequences will weigh in his or her mind. They think that gives them something else to feel, something else to tell other people when in reality they just got something else to do, something else to think about. When there is a slight sense of order in their lives, they want chaos. They want drama. They long for an excitement, a thrill that can’t be produced by the security or knowledge of knowing that they are loved and cared for. They want other people to look at them and admire them and think they are strong for going through disasters of their own making. That’s how selfish people can be,” she says as if still analyzing the situation.

“What happened next, Root?” you ask.

“I don’t know, Sameen. Maybe she disappeared and forgot what it was like to be happy. Maybe she was able to rebuild her life and family back. All in all I just thought it was stupid. My mom settled that case but somehow it all felt like a loss. It disturbed the hell out of my mom too – how people can do such terrible things to each other, how they can be cruel and remorseful at the same time, how they complicate such simple ideas” you imagine Root shaking her head, offended by human idiocy. “When my mom got back from court, we stayed up all night curled up on our sofa, watching animals on TV stay together,” she says with an edge of amazement in her voice.

You don’t know what you’re supposed to pick up from that story. Maybe you’re supposed to just listen to her until you fall back to sleep. You did. But you don’t want her to stop. You want to ask her for another one.

“Tell me about you, Root,” you’re getting a little demanding with her, but she’s not complaining…yet. _That should be alright, right?_

“I don’t know, Sam. I think I’ve lost myself in all the people I’ve been,” Root tells you honestly. “What do you want to hear?” she asks.

“Something more about you,” you want her to open up to you. “Maybe a Root trivia of sort,” you try to lighten the conversation.

There’s a long silence on the other line before you hear her sigh, “Okay, Sam.”

“I never forget.” _Okay, so maybe Root doesn’t have much of those good memories. How is it all so depressing?_ “I never forget and that pains me. I remember everything and that’s why it’s been too difficult for me to go, or let go, all these time. Hannah. My mom. If I get close to more people, I’m only bound to cause myself more pain in the future if… when something bad happens. So I’ve gotten used to being alone.” It sounds more like a caution. Whether to you or herself, you don’t know. “Just the thoughts running in mind when I think about losing you,” she says. “Any of you,” she corrects quickly, “It’s unbearable for me,” a pause. “You know why I didn’t wanna leave you guys?” Rhetorical question. “I wasn’t sure everything’s in order yet,” she pauses. “I’ve allowed myself to care about the team, and I don’t want anything bad to happen to any of you. I really can’t afford to lose any of you.”

You know Root lost the few people she cared about at a young age. You want to ask her more about her mom and her friend Hannah too, but you’re scared it’ll bring up a lot of bad memories for her and she doesn’t need that right now. Not when she’s recovering.

But you cannot stop the words before they slip past your lips, “Do you think your mom’s watching over you?”

“I hope not. I’m not sure she’d like what she sees,” Root says silently and then the line dropped.

“Please call me back soon,” you say to your phone, somehow already missing the comfort of talking with Root.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really happy with how their first conversation post-op turned out. Shaw is trying to reach out to Root, but she doesn't know how to do it quite well. But we have a start now, right? I have lots of notes I wish to include here like them eventually opening up to one another, but I guess we're just gonna have to give them some more phone conversations while Root is recovering.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and feel free to let me know what you think.


	17. Chapter 17

“Heard anything from Banana Nut Chick? Captain America there told me she’s going through some hardware upgrade or something’” Fusco says nodding towards the restaurant where John is currently engrossed in what could only be identified as a heart-to-heart talk with your latest number. It’s close to one of Finch’s safe house and you’re free to go, but since there’s nothing much to do you figured you’ll just wait for Reese here, maybe have a drink with the guys later. “She gonna be okay?”

You narrow your eyes at him, the piping hot coffee he just got you briefly forgotten. “She had a heart transplant, Lionel,” you answer him through gritted teeth. If he cracks another god-awful nickname at Root’s expense, you might just bite his head off. _Root’s not here to be fond of or patronize his creative name substitution._ “And no, I haven’t heard from her since a couple of weeks ago.”

Life’s gotten pretty boring without Root around. Knowing she can’t be put a damper on things. _It’s like knowing exactly what’s missing and still you search to pass the time that otherwise would’ve been wasted not thinking about it. About her,_ you correct yourself _._ Root brings chaos and excitement on every mission like she would a gift neatly tied together only with a confident smirk and her seemingly delicate yet deceiving features.

Fusco just observes you for a while before he clears his throat. He need not say anything else. He knows how stakeouts with you are – silent and slightly uncomfortable, that is. _Besides, John can’t take much longer talking to this number, can he?_ But then you think he _might_ deserve some answer. _He did asked about her_ , whether that’s out of genuine concern or just a way to make small talk, you don’t really care that much to figure out.

“Last I heard she got out of the op okay.” _There._

Queue the tense silence. They know you don’t enjoy talking (much), you justify yourself in your head. _Sounds a bit crazy_ , but at the back of your mind, you know the real reason for your erratic mood changes and curt reply. **_I don’t know any better._**

Root hasn’t been heard from since that night she called you and told you about faulty human reasoning and animals staying in herds for survival. You don’t know where she is or how she’s been, and the urge to search the world inside out just to check on her is getting stronger and stronger with each passing day. You’ve never really been bothered by not knowing before, but the lack of updates from Root is eating at you and it’s making you uncomfortable. The only thing that’s stopping you is John and Harold’s constant, albeit reticent, reminders that Root has to recover safely, away from the danger that any of you checking up on her might bring. You scoff at that. _Like that can happen._ They also insist that Root’s probably better off with the Machine watching her. They’re hoping to inspire some confidence in you even though all of you know that none of you has that kind of faith in the Machine. _Root’s probably the only one crazy enough to do constant trust fall exercises with the Machine, eyes both close and with complete abandon. And She’s never let her down before._ The Machine watches over everything. That’s what she does. You have to trust her.

The thing is, Fusco might think Root is crazy. _Actually, everybody thinks Root is crazy, and she seems to be fine with that. Hell, she even delights in messing with people’s head, their naivety a source of pure entertainment._ But you think Root might turn out to be right after all. You  might think Root is crazy, and she never claimed not to be, but out of all the things you’ve seen and heard in this world, you know she’s the one who can make sense of all these. _And that is an anomaly on its own,_ or so would others claim.

Root knows a lot of things before she even encountered the Machine. Now that you have the time to dissect it, your know that your stolen glances of her when you think she’s not looking and all the instances when she let slip some things that she brushed off as nonsense can tell you more. You know Root cares too much, too deep. You think sometimes she tries to pretend nothing affects her, like she can’t be bothered by all the trivial things humans do. You believe Root’s cunning brilliance is the result of her relentless search for something redeemable in human beings. She suffered for her sanity, expecting something good out of people only to be disappointed and shown hideous things each time. “Monsters are real, Sameen,” she told you one time as she approached you while you were exiting an alley. You were annoyed at her then because her presence then meant that she’ll be assisting you with your mission going forward. You’re not incompetent, you wanna tell her then. You just lost track of your number who turned out to be a perp after he helped an old lady carry her luggage from a cab up to an apartment building, it happens sometimes. “They don’t fear the light. They are brave enough to face you, talk to you, sit next to you, even give you a hand. You ought to remember that,” she continued as she shrugged and then stepped up to lead.  

Root has an interesting paradigm. At a young age, she tried to make sense of a sick world where people claimed to be well-adjusted; where people have rules, and ethics, and standards far greater than they could submit themselves to, much less comply with. Root tried to live in a society that bury its tainted, decomposing morality under the guise of acting out of its will to live and help the people, of doing things for the greater good, when clearly they’re just exploiting human weakness and taking advantage of their flakiness, of their very own exposed sensitive inhumanity.

A phone rings. It’s not yours. Lionel answers it and held the phone between his ears and shoulder. He reaches for a pen and notepad from his inside pocket and begins jotting down. “Alright. I’m on my way,” you heard him say. While putting everything back to their designated pockets, he eyes you and asks, “We good here?”

“Yeah,” you nod.

“’Kay. Send my regards to Cocoa puffs when you talk to her next. Catch ‘ya later, Shaw,” he hurriedly says and then jogs toward his car.

John appears right beside you. “Where’s Lionel going?”

“Work called,” you answer simply, already leaving. “Later.” _I’m not in the mood for drinks after all._

You list every question you’ll ask Root when she calls next in your head on your way back to your apartment.

* * *

Your eyes suddenly open and you’re gasping for breath. This is something new.

In the quiet of your apartment, there’s no movement of any kind. Nothing, save for the occasional muffled sound of the world beyond the street outside, and the only noise you hear is within your mind. It’s the nagging uncertainty of everything you’ve ever known turning gears into a paranoid machine of fears slowly building up a trap around you.

Normally, you don’t dream, but you woke up with a start just now. You sit up on your bed. _That was definitely not a dream. It’s a goddamn nightmare, it’s what it was!_ You were trapped in a world surrounded by vivid images of Root. You try to remember the scenes that played out in your mind as if they actually happened. Every which way you turn there was Root. There was Root sleeping and you can’t wake her up. There was her shooting at something you cannot see. There was her leaving you in the middle of the street. And then there was her staring out of Finch’s safe house window. This image of Root you tried to catch, you tried to chase. Even with her back turned on you, you remember thinking _she looks so beautiful in that light._ Under that bright sunlight you called her name, you tried to hold her then too, but it was as if Root was completely unaware of you.

In that dream, _nightmare really,_ something was holding you back, keeping you from doing anything at all. You cannot reach Root no matter how much you banged the invisible wall between you. She cannot seem to see or hear you. You remember feeling helpless. Like you were backed in a corner where there’s no retreat. _That was my mind playing tricks on me. Or maybe trying to tell me something?_

_There’s that fear again. What’s wrong with me?_

You’ve never been helpless before. No, you shake your head. Root’s rendered you helpless and, though you’re loathe to admit, speechless on numerous occasions now. But this dream, it’s like some of what you’re just now realizing as your worst fears flashing before your eyes. It’s disturbing.

You’ve abandoned the concept of normal too, well **_your_** normal anyway, some time after Root left for what was supposed to be her first (and only) heart transplant. You knew then that some things will have to change between you two, but somehow everything stayed the same, and you can’t help but feel like they should not be how they’re supposed to be anymore.

You feel like you’re at a standstill, waiting. You’re waiting for a call, maybe a sign asking you to take notice. You’re waiting, actually you’re hoping, for your phone to ring and for a familiar sweet voice to call out your name because you know its owner with that beautiful face, and those glorious, wavy locks, and those expressive eyes will not cross your line of sight right now. You’re tempted to call her, but you don’t know how. There’s not a single contact detail you can try to reach her now. It’s been a while. You take a deep breath and you try to force that fear out of your mind. It won’t help Root recover any faster if she’ll worry about you losing focus during missions and sleep in her absence. You close your eyes for a moment to bring a comforting image at the forefront of your mind. In your head you can see her smiling at you, happy and carefree as she should be. You lie back down on your bed, hoping for sleep to take over again soon so that nothing else is audible or visible to you anymore save for Root.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. Apologies for the delay. I was pressed for time these past weeks. Here's a little update for now though. I'm hoping I could add another chapter in the next 2 or 3 days. 
> 
> I'd appreciate your inputs/corrections about this chapter, by the way, since I've not reviewed this as thoroughly as I know I should. Just really wanted to post a chapter, actually. 
> 
> Thanks for the lovely comments and your patience, as always. I'm glad to see this story is gaining readers. I hope I'm doing you all (and Root and Shaw) justice.
> 
> Again, I'm so sorry for the long wait.


	18. Chapter 18

Another week had gone by without any word from Root. Well, not exactly. The other day you got a message that says:

GO FOR IT

–ANALOG INTERFACE

Of course you knew that’s from the Machine, and She made sure to indicate that the message came from Root, like She’s appropriately directing blame to the right target or something. You’d laugh at the silliness of it all if you weren’t offended, and without a voice going along with the message, you don’t know exactly whether Root is mocking you or encouraging you anyway.

A bullet had grazed your arm saving a number who couldn’t subliminally flirt with you if his life depended on it, but regardless, it’s just something that’s never gonna happen. She should’ve known that. But then again, _could she have really known that? For sure?_ Root probably thought that because you seemed interested at first that you’re willing to be swayed into some action involving you and the number, like you could’ve forgotten about her. _How dare she?_ You’re not sure if you were ever capable of that since your first mission together, but then again, you allowed for her to be locked up in Finch’s cage in the library even when you know for sure that she’s carrying out the Machine’s objectives so you can’t really blame her, could you? _I’ll wait for Root to make everything clear, thank you very much._

These days you pass time by analyzing your dream from days ago. Here’s what you’ve discovered so far: you’re scared for Root. But also, you’re scared of Root.

You’re scared for Root because of a lot of things. Just from what you’ve gathered from your dream you’re scared for Root because there’s the possibility of her dying, obviously. Then there is her fighting the invisible war that is her health. There’s also her leaving you in the middle of everything. And then there is her, her back turned to you, not seeing or hearing you, not understanding anything you’re saying, and not knowing you’re even there, and if she doesn’t know you’re there she might come to the conclusion that she’s all alone in this world.  _It's you unable, or perhaps incapable, or getting through to her._

You’re scared of Root because of the same things. And because you know all those things can still happen.

* * *

You’re entering the subway hideout when you saw Finch with Bear, complete with his service vest, making their way out.

“Ms. Shaw. I was just about to call you to ask if you’d be interested in going for a stroll with me and Bear. We’re going to meet with Mr. Reese and Detective Fusco later at a diner a few blocks from the 8th precinct,” he declares.

“Sure,” you shrug.  “It’s not like there’s much else to do back there anyway,” you nod towards the way he came from.

When you got to the diner, John and Lionel are already there.

“What’re we looking at here, glasses?” Lionel asks.

“New number?” John barely whispers with an eyebrow raised at Finch.

“We’re looking,” Finch begins to enunciate while looking intently at his phone, “for a friend.” You wonder what that could be about, but you don’t voice your question out. You’ll just wait for things to unfold. But before Finch could explain or tell any of you more about what you’re all doing there, Bear starts to run towards the diner. There’s not a lot of people in there from what you could see. Finch begins to follow when the blonde woman Bear approached starts petting him. _This should be interesting._ The woman seems familiar, somehow. You see her hug Finch, and the realization hit you. _Just wait a minute, I know that woman!_ You notice John follow Finch, and you and Lionel closely follow suit.

“Hiya, Big Lug,” you hear Root say excitedly. “Wanna hug too?” she asks John teasingly, and then she winks at you. She motions for everybody to sit at a booth while she borrows a chair from a table close by. Finch got in one of the booths first, John sits beside him. Lionel sits on the other corner, you sit beside him. Root propped the chair she’d borrowed at the end of the table, closing your little group, with Bear immediately situating himself by her feet.

“Root, you’re blonde again I see,” John begins.

She laughs, and then she leans back. “How very astute of you, John.”

 _What’s going on?_ You’re as confused as Lionel looks.

“Where have you been? What are you doing here, Root?” you say a little too harshly. You didn’t mean it to come out that way. “And when were you blonde before?” you ask ruefully, as if the idea of her being one doesn’t really add up. You suppress to show any form of excitement.

“Around. Just visiting,” she shrugs. Then she shifts her attention to Finch, “It’s very kind of you to invite everybody along for this little reunion, Harry. Thought it’d be just us, like old times,” she says sweetly. “And ‘til I’m fifteen,” she says, her attention back to you. _She’s blonde?_ Your knowledge of her just keeps turning itself on its head, it seems. You thought she was recovering – keeping away from missions and healing – but you thought wrong. You haven’t taken your eyes off of her since you’ve settled in your seat. You’re trying to piece together how this could be. How could she possibly undergo a heart transplant and still move as if she’s indestructible. You want to ask her how she is, but with everybody here, it just doesn’t seem right for you to be very vocal about your concerns. Luckily Finch does it for you.

“How are you, Ms. Groves? Recovering well, I hope?”

“Please. You know me, Harry. That procedure is hardly the most painful thing I’ve ever endured,” she intones like it’s a jab, to what or whom you have no idea. _But that sentence could be interpreted in a lot of ways_ , you think. And just like that, the entire ordeal about her transplant that’s got everybody wondering is dismissed. _Brushed off like it’s not a big deal at all._ You want to pinch the bridge of your nose to block the headache that you know is coming anyway. _The information coming in is a little too confusing to process, is all._

“Forgive me, Ms. Groves. I was unaware that it was you we were supposed to meet, though from the message I received from the Machine, I gathered it implied that the whole team would be quite fundamental to what’s about to take place in this diner,” Finch informs her.

Root tilts her head a little, probably listening to the Machine. “I see,” she says with a little smile. “This is for you, by the way,” she says as she produces as gift-wrapped box from her satchel. “Happy Birthday, Harry,” she jokes. When everybody at the table stays silent, probably wondering if it’s in fact Harold’s birthday, she says “Here’s a little something extra for your celebration,” and then she hands him a flash drive. A waitress appears beside her, setting food for everybody. “And you’re right, Harry,” she whispers as she leans towards the table once the waitress disappears. “Our detective friend over here is quite necessary for what’s about to happen,” there’s a glint in her eyes and you know it means something fun and dangerous will happen.

Lionel pokes at your ribs with his elbow. He caught you staring at Root. “What are you looking at, Shaw? Better eat now. Nuttella here thinks something’s about to go down,” Lionel tells you.

You look down at the plate placed in front of you, and then you try to steal glances of her. Everybody’s busy trying to tuck in food except for the two of you. She just raised her eyebrow at you, clearly amused, once she caught you looking at her again. It’s just been too long since you’ve seen her. And then her attention moves from you to a man who just walked in. She excuses herself to go to the washroom, signaling everybody at the table to pay attention.

You take a look at the man. He’s in mid-forties, probably planning to hold up this diner. Reese and Fusco caught your pointed looks at him and they catch on your warning. You all begin to stand up to spread out: Reese towards the exit with Finch; Lionel two tables from where the man’s at; and you close to the washrooms, preparing to extract Root.

And then the man grabs a nearby waitress, points a gun to her head and announced, “Everybody get down and no one gets hurt.” _How original_ , you roll your eyes but follow his command. You thinking of a quick way to incapacitate him since he’s moving much closer to you when you hear Lionel say, “NYPD, put your weapon down.”

While Fusco is showing his badge and is trying to negotiate with the armed robber, all you could think about is _he’s moving towards where Root is_.

“No,” the robber says. “I want all the money from the register. You,” pointing towards Finch, “empty the cash register now. Put everything here,” he orders while shoving a bag in Finch’s direction. And then you hear a door open, a cold panic runs through your veins. The hold upper faces Root, pointing his gun at her. “Hands where I can see them,” he shouts at her.

She makes a move of holding up her hands, trembling, hesitating for show… “Please,” her voice shaking with fake fear, you can tell, of course, “Don’t hurt me.” She looks at you, and with little nod you hurriedly pull the waitress away from the hold upper. She then makes fast work of turning the gun away from her and disarming the criminal, and then you hear her taser go off. You stare at her incredulously, then you look towards Harold, John and Lionel, they look awestruck as well, so are all the other people inside the diner. This lady is a one girl revelation, indeed.

“Detective, now might be the best time to cuff him,” Harold says.

“Told you having everybody from our team is a little excessive, Harry. But I appreciate the mini reunion. ‘Til next time,” she says as she’s walking away. You’re a little dumbfounded about everything that just happened.

Root’s already out the door when you heard Finch say, “Ms. Shaw, perhaps you could check to see if she’s okay?” You give him a curt nod before you whistle for Bear to come with you. You both rush to follow her, leaving the rest of your team to deal with what happened.

“So you’re not just here for a visit then? You’re already back to working the numbers?” you ask when you catch up to her.

“I’ve been working a little, yes. If that’s what you wanna know,” she answers. When nothing else came from you, she clarifies, “I’ve been writing code while I was recovering, Sameen. Nothing too stressful, if that’s what you’re worried about. This is actually the first time I’m made to act on a mission after the operation. I guess that’s why She asked Harold to bring you all there. I’d still need a few days off,” she says defensively.

“Okay,” you say quietly. You don’t know what else you could say to her now that she’s here so you just walk with her. She settles at a park bench, watching the sun as it sets. Bear sits in front of her, as if waiting for a command. You sit beside her.

Neither of you speak. You keep quiet, trying to listen closely to whatever sound she makes. _Does her heartbeat echo the ones before?_ You think you’re still looking for something different, for something that could’ve changed between you two, but she’s still Root and you’re still Shaw. But to you it feels like you’re more when you’re together now. _Does that make sense?_

The thought of you being happy with her terrifies you a little. _Happy? Is that the right word? Maybe content is more like it._ It scares you to know that you could have everything you want, possibly everything you’ll ever need, with her by your side. But the thing with you is you want to believe you’re nothing if not fearless.

“You know,” you begin, “My parents used to tell me they love me every day when I was a child. And I used to think there’s something wrong with me for not feeling something when they say that to me. I still do,” you pause, gathering your thoughts. Root closes her eyes while waiting for you to continue. Bear lowers himself on the ground. You take your time. _How ironic is it that the kid who can’t feel heard more declarations of love?_ “I remember feeling inadequate, like I’m not good enough. All throughout my life people wanted to care for me, to love me, even, but I didn’t care about them back,” you explain methodically. _Not until you_ , you want to tell her. The sun’s already gone now, but you can still clearly see her. It’s like there’s a spotlight in your world that focuses solely on her now – that light, you recognize, searches for her wherever you are; always on the lookout for signs of her presence. Still, you can’t seem to find the sound out of your mouth to voice your thoughts. _Something’s clearly wrong with me._

“Why are you telling me this, Sameen?” she questions before you can speak any further. You didn’t notice her opening her eyes and directly looking at you until she is. She knows you’re uncomfortable with this type of conversations so she must’ve known you wanted to fill the silence.

“I guess I just wanted you to know.” _Also:_ _because you don’t ask about me anymore._

With a kind smile and patient eyes, she says, “You’re a kind person, Shaw, but you don’t have to do anything more for me. I’m sure you can see I’m fine now.” You know she appreciates your gesture as it is – trying to match the pain she’s going through, if only for a while, but it’s more than that to you.  Really? Of all the times she can be imperceptive, she picks now!? As in now when you’re trying to tell her something, really? _This must’ve been the universe’s idea of a cosmic joke_ , you internally groan. But then she looks directly in your eyes. She stares at you curiously, full of intrigue at first and then something akin to surprise next. And then she leans back and looks up towards the skies. She takes a deep breath. “The stars sure do look lovely this evening,” she points out. She didn’t disregard what she saw, but she didn’t recognize it either, and for the first time you wish she would just bluntly say things you could respond with.

Root slides her hands to one of yours. You take the liberty of intertwining your fingers together. She twists her body and then she pats your enclosed hand with her other hand. It makes your heart beat a little faster. _What is she doing to me?_ you wonder. It’s like you can’t help but stare at her, and if you believe in such things as magic, then this might be the time when you’re under what people would call as a spell. _Her eyes, they’re not hypnotic, they’re enchanting._

“There’s a stream close to my school back in Bishop. Hannah…” there’s a shake in her voice that reminds you of a guitar string when strung, it longs to make a sound. She swallows bitterly at the memory and then she continues, “I found her there after leaving the library one night. I knew her from school, a year ahead of me. Everybody liked her,” she recounts, fond memories obvious in her voice. “I only meant to check to see who was there but she caught me looking through the bushes. I was surprised because instead of shunning me away, she patted the space beside the log she had been sitting on. Her parents had another disagreement, she said. She asked if I could stay with her for a while,” there’s a ghost of a smile on her face, no doubt remembering her friend.

“That place had been our escape. Not that we were always there, but I guess there’s something comforting about that particular spot. You can see the stars from there. It had been left untouched by our townspeople and from there you’d think the world is so beautiful, so free from a lot of things,” a bitter chuckle escapes her.

“Why did you run away, Root?” _And why does it feel like you’re still running away?_

“I’ve learned not to expect any more than I have to. There are lots of places like that in the world, Sameen – beautiful but cold, dangerous. Just goes to further prove looks can be deceiving. A tiny, little spot of safe land in hell is still a part of hell.”

That’s the thing about Root. She can speak profundity even in the simplest of things, like her words can hold the weight of the world and make even the absurd matter. In the grand scheme of things, that’s a gift fitting a prophet, even if it’s of a god built with codes and wires. But Root’s words reflect her, don’t they? She is beautiful and cold and dangerous. Unlike you, she can be calculating and unforgiving, but she can also be noble and magnanimous – her life in constant danger a true testament to that. _But she’s telling me more than what she’s saying, isn’t she?_

In a way, she is right not to expect. The world seems too damned a place to be hopeful, after all. But you want to suggest to her that maybe she **_should_** ask you for something, or demand, or expect something from you so that you can do something to fulfill it – so that you can do your best to prove you wrong, because you’re suspecting that she’s talking about whatever speck of hope she’s found in your eyes for the both of you, like she knows it’ll hurt her more if she choose to focus on that tiny indication that you feel for her instead of the entirety of who you’ve been to her – of who you are to her.

 And as if confirming your thoughts, she says with a little shake of her head, “You’re unlike anybody I’ve ever known, Sameen. You’re special. I can’t change you.” She says this more like she’s reminding herself instead of telling you. She says this like she’ll do everything in her power to preserve who you are, like she knows she can but she’d rather not alter you. You tell yourself it’s probably because she saw you were having a hard time speaking your feelings out earlier. _It’s not because she’s giving up on me. It can’t be. She can’t let go when you’re just beginning to hang on. No._

“You’re right, Root. I’m not like them. You know me,” you tell her. You will show her how different you are from the people she’s encountered before. You’re careful to use the same argument she’s using. “I’m different in a way that I know I don’t want to change. I want to be special in just the way you see me as the best of everything. I won’t change. I just want to be at my best for you,” you say calmly, taking hold of both her hands now as you look directly in her eyes, “This is a beginning, Root. You know me. You’ll always know me.”

It’s not the same as saying ‘I love you’ but you hope that that removes her fear of ever changing you. You hope she’ll believe everything you’ve said. You want her to believe you. She closes her eyes; she’s trying to make up her mind. _Maybe she’s scared we have both our lives ahead of us now?_ You see her nodding her head. She opens her eyes, and you can see sparks in them. You’ve missed seeing that, as well as that smirk that’s playing at her lips right now.  There’s a dash of hope that you and Root are happening.

“You know, sweetie, I just got this heart. It’ll burst if you keep surprising me with gestures like this,” she wiggles her eyebrows at you. _This dork is unbelievable._

“You know, Root, I won’t have to say too much if you’d just believe me,” you counter.

“I believe you, Sameen,” she whispers. But why is she prying her hands off of your hold all of a sudden? You tighten your hold. “Sameen, it’s just… it’s been a while since I’ve trusted somebody completely. I’m a little scared,” she says sincerely.

“I’m completely terrified, Root. But I’m here now because you are. I don’t want to be anywhere else.” And how true is that? You’ve been missing her for all the times she’s gone.

She squeezes your hands tighter together. She probably doesn’t want to let go either, but there’s a vacant look in her eyes that’s saying the Machine is speaking to her right now.

“I have to go,” she announces, and you both let go. And then you both stand up, and Bear does too. Her “I’ll be back soon, okay?” spoken like a promise. _Maybe because it is._

You want to ask her to stay with you too, for a few more moments, just like Hannah asked her to, but she’s already walking towards a parked car across the street.

“Be careful,” you call out to her. _You’ll always worry about her, no matter what._

“I will, sweetie. Talk to you later,” she says as she nods her bye for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update is late. Been a bit sick these past days. Hope this makes up for the tardiness. If not then I'll welcome your violent reactions in the comment section. :)
> 
> I see this story gained some new readers. Thank you for showing your support. I hope I don't disappoint (much). As always, I'm delighted to read your comments and I'm grateful for your patience. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	19. Chapter 19

Nothing about Root is typical, and as she was walking away from you and Bear last night, you keep willing your mind to get her this message: _I’ll be here. Just come back._

Your walk back to your apartment consisted of Bear tugging at you too hurry while you think about how it’s possible for you and Root to always part ways when you’ve yet to be together, but at the back of your mind you say ‘It’s okay’ because at least you’re growing together even when you’re far apart. _Still, that’s not enough_ , you objected a little later.

* * *

You’re in the platform of the subway station playing with Bear when he stops and runs towards the stairs that leads to the hideout entrance. You can hear his feet jumping in excitement, probably greeting John. You wanna roll your eyes at that traitorous dog, after all, you’ve been together long enough. You should be his favorite person! But to your surprise, Bear drags back the last person you’re expecting - but still excited - to see this morning. She’s still blonde, wearing what looks like a lawyers outfit, and carrying an expensive leather laptop bag.

“Oh,” you say. “You’re here,” you say flatly to cover your shock. You can feel Finch’s eyes on you, probably judging you for your seemingly cold greeting. _What!? I don’t have any idea how to do this, okay?_ You look back and shrug at him defensively. You can’t help but feel slightly disappointed, like all your conversation from last night was for nothing.

He stands up from his desk where he’s been tinkering for god knows how long and smiles a little as he begins to approach Root. “Ms. Groves. I’m so pleased you’re here. How have you been?” he asks politely.

“You know I’m fine, Harry.” Root smiles a wide smile at you before she walks towards Harold. “Did you open my gift yet?” she asks playfully.

“Oh, yes. I have,” Finch says as he’s walking back to his desk. You follow them. “And I have to say, it’s quite exquisite. Though I have to ask, what exactly it is that you want me to do with this sophisticated smart watch?” he says sitting back.

“Harry,” she chastises, and then she pouts at him, “I’m sure you can figure that out on your own.”

Finch just throws her a sideways glare.

“Alright, alright,” she then takes out a folder from her bag and opens it in from of him. “Meet Mr. Alfred Hastings, my latest “boss”” she air-quotes. “That smart watch is a prototype of his latest product line that includes an assortment of gadgets for most undercover field agents working for the government. Apparently it can control and modify nearby devices. Control said his ambition to commercialize could lead to a huge disaster. Of course, the Machine saw that coming. Samaritan operatives are already looking for him so she assigned me as his lawyer for intellectual property,” she explains as if it’s obvious what she’s doing.

“And what is it you need from us now, Ms. Groves?” Finch asks.

It’s amazing how everything seems normal; like Root never went away to get a new heart just a few weeks back.

“The Machine and I would like you to upload a basic code in its programming so that we can establish connection to all electronic devices,” she says as she hands Finch a flash disk.

“You’ve already thought this through, haven’t you, Ms. Groves?” Harold asks suspiciously. In your mind you’re shaking your head. _You should’ve figured that out already, Harold._

“Of course, I have, Harry. Like I told you before, I won’t let anything bad happen to _Her_. I’ll help her grow anyway I can,” she says, looking at him with slight bitterness that’s screaming the words _“unlike you.”_

Finch is momentarily stunned to silence. “Can’t say that I’m surprised,” he says in a whisper.

A beat, and then she sighs. And then she contorts her face into something akin to comforting again. She places a hand on his shoulder, and then leans down to smile at him. “Anyway, I have to go. Don’t want to be late to my client meeting,” she says as she pulls back. You’re preparing yourself to follow her, but just as she’s beginning to walk away, Finch calls back to her.

“Ms. Groves,” he says earnestly.  “Please take Ms. Shaw and Mr. Reese with you. If Samaritan is after Mr. Hastings then there’s likely to be trouble,” he says matter-of-factly. And then he wets his lips and then adds, “And I would hate for you to be in so much danger so soon.”

It’s as if something tender came over Root. Her eyes seem to have a soft glint in them ( _could be tears,_ you mused) and she appears to be trying to suppress a big smile or hefty sigh from escaping her features. She just looks at him and then nods, a little too self-consciously, you think. And then she turns to you and tilts her head to the exit as if to say “Follow me?” You know you would even without the invitation.

* * *

Finch is right. Trouble came looking for Hastings in the form of a bomb threat in his building. You had to call Lionel (and half of the NYPD and Fire Department) for back up and help him get everybody out of the building while Reese ran after Root and the number. You don’t know what happened yet, but an hour after the bomb scare and what seems to be a shootout, Reese called Finch to say that they’re heading to one of Finch’s safe house. That’s all. And you couldn’t help but feel that something bad has happened.

You got to the safe house before they do. You’re alternating between calling John and Root’s number when Finch came not ten minutes later with Bear’s leash on his hand and a doctor in tow. And your stomach dropped because that couldn’t mean anything good. You watch the clock on the wall. _What could possibly be taking them so long?_ _And why the hell don’t they check up on you or Finch?_

You don’t know what’s going on with them or where they are. And you don’t know what’s going with you either. _Am I mad, scared, or afraid?_ You can’t identify it yet. All you know is they better get here soon.

A bloody John bursts in, kicking the door open after an hour and seventeen minutes, with an equally bloody and unconscious Root in his arms. He’s rushing to get her to the bed while you can only stand there feeling as if the world is closing in on. You can’t move. Something heavy must’ve fallen on your chest too, because for a while, it seems like you can’t breathe in enough air either.

You must’ve entered a bubble. They’re all huddled on the bed, trying to help stabilize Root, but all the sounds around you are muffled. You can’t understand a thing anybody is saying. But then you hear it, the steady sound of the heart monitor flat-lining.

“Root?” you say in recognition. And in a flash you’re there, doing chest compressions and barking orders at the doctor while performing CPR. _You just got this heart, Root! Come on!_ You’re willing her to hear you. You can feel your hands trembling, but you gotta focus. _You promised me you’ll come back,_ you say with some sort of resentment in your head. You know you’ll never forgive her if she leaves you like this.

The doctor stands beside you and places defibrillator pads on Root’s chest. “Clear,” she barks and then shocks Root. She tries it again, and this time the heart monitor registers a beat. Only when you’re sure her pulse is back that you could breathe a little close to normal.

You help the doctor clean up and dress her wounds. Root acquired a gunshot wound on her left abdomen, a gash on her forehead, and a broken radius on her right hand. You let the doctor tell you what to do. And when you’re done, you look at the doctor straight in the eyes and, as sincerely as you can muster, you tell her “Thank you.”

* * *

Reese stands beside you as you sit beside Root’s bed.

“Sorry, Shaw,” he says silently, regret obvious in his voice. “I should’ve been watching her back more closely, but she wants me to keep Hastings safe.”

John pulls a chair to sit beside you. “She let Greer’s men shoot at her so that Hastings can get to me,” he continues. “I thought they were gonna kill her, Shaw. But Greer stopped them from hurting her,” he glances at Root’s face. “I think Samaritan wants her.”

“I have no doubt about that, Mr. Reese,” Finch says behind you two. “I’m sure the Machine chose Ms. Groves as its analogue interface for many reasons. Reasons, I’m ashamed to admit, I have yet to comprehend, but regardless, there’s one thing I’m certain of – I’m most certainly relieved to know that she’s always on our side.”

You think that the silence that follows that statement is reserved to reflect on how true that statement is. Yes, there are a lot of reasons why the Machine chose Root to be its avatar in the world. She's unlike anybody in your team. If anything, she's a hybrid of all your team's strengths. She's a combination of Harold's genius, John's unlikely combination of charms and extreme solitude, Fusco's wit and dedication, Joss's sense of justice and warmth, and even Bear's loyalty. And though you know she was born and raised by a single mother she’s very fond of, you think it’s also possible that Root was designed somewhere to be perfect, or as close to it as anybody can be in your line of work. It was like she was conceived and destined to be a personification of all the desirable qualities an exceptional soldier and spy should have. She could stand out, but more importantly, she knows how to blend in. She’s unstoppable. _Only her current condition would keep her from doing reckless things again._ But she’s also frail and a little bent.

Your train of thought is cut by Harold clearing his throat. “I implore you both to get some rest. There’s nothing else you can do for her right now. I’ll keep watch over Ms. Groves.”

STAY. You remember the Machine’s message to you one day when you’re asking _Her_ what you can do to help Root, so you shake your head and declare “I’ll stay with her.”

Both John and Harold gives you a small nod of understanding before leaving. You turn back to Root and look at her face; somehow you’re waiting for eyes to open up. You lean towards her and reach to brush a lock of hair from her face.

“It’s my turn to really take care of you now, Root. Please wake up soon,” and then you press a kiss on her forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been too long since I've updated. I had to take part in an immersion in an indigenous community up in the mountains. I'm back now so I'm hoping to update regularly.
> 
> I would just like to thank you all for sticking with this story and for being patient with me. Also, you've all been so generous and wonderful to me with your comments. I feel like I'm actually a writer, instead of a frustrated one. Haha...
> 
> I hope you'll all find this chapter alright. I just want to give Shaw the opportunity to actually take care of Root.


	20. Chapter 20

There was a bombing in France last night and you wonder, not for the first time since Root went to have her transplant, who's handling the relevant numbers. Since Control is in semi-hiding, the ISA can't be expected to carry out the Machine's instruction, especially since Samaritan probably has its nails hooked too deep into Washington. The Machine wouldn't let civilians die, would it? _Is this what Root feared before she left?_ Maybe so. Maybe it's not just you who can't function properly without Root. The world seems to need her now more than ever. _And so do I,_ you tell yourself.

It’s almost a day and Root still hasn’t woken up. The doctor said that that’s probably due to blood loss and her weakened state, but she’s positive Root will wake up soon. During the course of everybody waiting for Root to open her eyes you’ve had conversations with both John and Harold.

John told you more about what happened. Apparently, Root insisted that they drive the number to his next destination before agreeing to get back and get patched up.  Root gave the number a flash disk and some specific instructions to fly out the country after he gave her the hard drive which she told John he needed to get to Harold. He suspected that if it weren’t for Harold being in the same place as the treatment, Root would’ve pushed herself to escort the number. She, instead guaranteed the number, who have gone pale just witnessing Root bleed out, that she’ll see him soon. “Stubborn Root,” John said, shaking his head with a little smile. Then he sighed, stood up and gave you a sigh before leaving to take care of another number.

Harold found you while you’re willing her to open her eyes yesterday. You were looking at her face, memorizing it though you know for certain you’d rather watch colors and emotions dance around her face instead of recalling them, while holding one of her hands when he first checked on Root. He has been constantly checking on her every couple of hours since. He’s worried about her, that much you can tell. “She’s been through so much already, Ms. Shaw,” he said with a quiver in his voice the last time he stood by Root’s bed, watching her sleep. That was barely a conversation, actually, he just stood there and speaks out without expecting you to offer any response in exchange, but you know there’s genuine concern behind his statement that you think he can see reflected in your actions. He’s perceptive like that.

* * *

Panic instantly jolts you into action as the sound of the heart monitor flat lining wakes you up. You didn’t realize you fell asleep on the chair you’re supposed to be watching her from but in the faint glow of the morning, the chaos from that despicable sound is provoking you, mockingly reminding you that there are things you can’t prevent from happening.

You hurry to Root’s side, looking her over with something akin to fear twisting your insides. Her eyes are closed but you can tell she’s awake. _Or conscious, at least._ And she’s managed to pull of almost everything attached to her body save for the clothes – one of John’s gray undershirts and some blue pajama pants Harold managed to find stashed somewhere in this safe house – you’ve helped the doctor change her into last night and the blanket barely covering her weakened body.

“Root,” you questioningly call out to her to get her attention.

With some strain, Root manages to slightly open her eyes enough to look at you and then she closes them again. “Mind turning that thing off?” gesturing towards the alarming device. “It’s still here. Don’t need to hear it,” pointing at the spot above her ribcage where her new heart is.

Her heart. She’s talking about it. Flippantly. Like it’s too much of a bother for her to remember it’s there. _What the hell?_

You move to turn the ECG off. You look at her over your shoulder, “I’m almost positive you’re asking to die,” you accuse her.

“Not really,” she grunts as she shifts a little, “But I wouldn’t be opposed to a date with Death. We’re old pals, you know.”

You stop fiddling with the machines around you. You move to look pointedly at her, your gaze saying _“Stop joking about your life, Root.”_

With a chastised look about her face, she reaches for one of your hands and you let her. She squeezes it. She gets it. And she’s sorry for making light of the situation. Somehow you know she knows she’s offended you. “I’m back as promised,” she says with a small smile.

“Yes,” you squeeze her hand back. You motion for her to scoot over and give you some bed space. Once you’re settled beside her, careful not to disturb any of her injuries, you gather her head to rest on your chest and hold one of her hands. “Just…” you say while beginning to rub circles at the back of her hand, “Maybe don’t stray too far next time. I almost lost you last night, Root. I was…” you say slowly, hesitantly. “I’m scared,” you admitted in a whisper.

A reply didn’t come. She’s fast asleep. She needs it if she’s going to recover quickly.

_I think I’m losing you._

* * *

Before Root, the entire concept of missing someone or worrying, at all, seemed impossible for you. But in the last months, Root seemed more human to you than the whole of your association with this deceptively dangerous woman.

Harold sent Reese to replace you on your Root-watch, asking if he could have a word with you. He was sitting on a bench sipping sencha green tea with a cup of coffee beside him. You take the cup you know is for you and sit beside him at a comfortable distance.

“I just wanted to thank you, Sameen,” he begins. “I know outwardly displaying your concern for Ms. Groves is out of your norm, but I want you to know that what you’re doing for her matters significantly. You’re giving her strength and support – hope – that only the Machine can inspire in her.”

Truth be told, you hate that Finch has to assess your actions as if you need his approval to proceed, but you take his word for it because you know, and he knows, that what’s going on doesn’t come easy for you. You thought you can’t care, and he’s aware of that that’s why he needs to assure you that you’re doing well for “someone like you.” You think this is better than him confronting you, asking you if you know what you’re doing. _What would Root think now that I’m letting this particular insecurity rise up within me again?_

“Listen Finch,” you say carefully, “I know I’m different, but when I knew about Root’s condition, for the first time, I felt like I could actually lose something. I…” you gather your thoughts, “I didn’t like that.”

You figure you can also offer Finch your brand of assurance.

There’s a palpable silence that follows. You listen to the hum in your surroundings, waiting for Harold to say something back to you. “Does Root know?” he asks finally.

“I hope so,” you tell him honestly. “Truth is, I've expressed to Root on numerous occasions now that I care about her, but somehow… somehow it never sticks. At least I don’t think so. What if I tell her everything and she won’t understand?”

“If it’s anyone besides Ms. Groves, maybe they won’t,” he tells you. “But the thing about Ms. Groves is she has unfathomable comprehension of so many intricacies. It may be that we don’t always see eye to eye, but Root is a brilliant woman,” a pause. “I think, Ms. Shaw, that you’re afraid to tell her everything because you know she will,” and then he leaves you to simmer with your thoughts.

Of course Harold is right. This is Root. She accepts you for everything that you are, sometimes even better than you accept yourself for whom you are. She sees you as someone more than your Axis II or your combined skillsets.

This is Root. Of course she’ll understand. She probably already knows and that’s why she’s not asking for anything more. All that’s left is to convince yourself to believe her, really.

You used to think that there is a void inside of you where feelings and emotions should be, a black hole that consumes every sentiment that ever touches you before any of them ever get through to you. You recently discovered that it was actually a space reserved only for Root to fill.

To you, Root has come to mean the difference between nothing and everything. A space and a void only she can fit it. And you’re fine with that.

* * *

The next time she wakes up, you’ve already prepared some mushroom soup for her. There are some mashed potatoes and apples Harold brought for her earlier along with your sandwich. John brought doughnuts and some other assorted snacks from a nearby convenience store. _So nutritious_ , you remark in your head sarcastically.

After six spoonful of soup she’s reaching for an apple and as soon as she’s down to its core she asked you for a pack of potato chips. You hand it to her while also pulling for a bar of dark chocolate for yourself.

There’s a bizarre but comfortable silence between you that you want to break. You settle on your chair beside her bed. You’re thinking back to the conversation you had with Harold. _What is there to say?_ you ask yourself. Quite frankly, you’ve never been really good with words.

“So…” you began a little tense, “How are you feeling?” Nice going, Shaw. You roll your eyes at yourself. You’ve already asked her that earlier, multiple times too, as you’re checking her vitals.

“I’m just fine, Sam,” she says.

Silence. Again.

“You’re back,” you say dragging the words out as if begging them to turn into a longer sentence.

“Didn’t you know by now Sweetie, I always keep my promises,” she says a little too teasingly with that familiar sweet smile of hers.

 _You almost didn’t_ , you reply mentally. You shake your head of that bitter thought. You device a plan to get closer to her. You eye her pack of potato chips and finish the last of your chocolate bar.

“Can I have some?” you nod towards her potato chips.

She takes her hand out of the packaging with half a chip offering it to you with a sheepish smile. “Sorry Sam, finished it already. I did ask if you wanted them earlier, remember?”

“Just wanted something salty after that chocolate,” you say with a little shrug. You stand up and move to her, maintaining eye contact and leaning ever so closely towards her lips. You take a hold of the hand she just took out of the bag. “Guess this will have to do,” and you lift up her hand to your mouth and lick the fingers you know have the potato chips’ flavored powder. Root’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open. She shakes her head, probably thinking this is all just her imagination. You raise an eyebrow and smirk at her.

“Look who’s teasing now,” she says with a chuckle that turns into a blinding smile when you just kept on looking at her.

You move your face closer towards her, bumping your noses together. “Believe me, babe. I wouldn’t tease if you’re not recovering.” And then you kiss her on the lips for a couple of seconds before pulling back to look at her.

She’s got her eyes closed but she’s still smiling. You sigh contentedly and allow yourself to smile as well. When she opens her eyes she says, “You look so beautiful when you smile, Sameen.”

“Yeah?” you ask her a little incredulously. “Well,” _You’re the one who’s beautiful_ , you want to say, but you search for something more honest, more meaningful to say. She stares at you, and you stare back at her. “You look like you’re everything but mine,” you whisper.

There’s a mixture of surprise and what you can only tell as adoration in her eyes. “Sameen,” she says your name reverently, and she weakly pulls at you back towards her, “I’m nothing but yours, whether you believe me or not,” and then she’s pressing her lips against yours as if sealing that exchange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There might be a part 2 to this since I haven't gotten around to finishing everything I have outlined for this chapter.
> 
> Sorry if it took me too long to update when I told you guys I'm back the last time. I lost somebody important to me and I needed some time to clear my head. Anyway, I would like to thank you all for reading and being supportive and kind and patient with this story.
> 
> I hope you're all having great holidays.


	21. Chapter 21

Samantha Groves is gone. The Samantha Groves Harold Finch is insists on calling has been gone for a while now. She's not particularly lost. She disappeared, stayed hidden in the dark, in obscurity - an abandoned ghost inside a body that never her to surface again. Only one Hannah Frey and a deceased mother knew who that person actually was - who Root really was - before all the tragedy and pain that you know young Sam Groves didn't deserve but was still able to deal with.

Root tolerated life and people because of them. The fondness in her tone whenever she speaks about Hanna or her mother is just as much evident as the sadness in the knowledge that they were gone. _She speaks the same way about me. I hope. No, I know!_

 _Why are you questioning this?_ You know Root's always liked you, even when you didn't know she was stopping herself from interacting with you. Even when you have no idea she was building a "firewall" against your expressions of interest. "This might not last, Sameen," she told you, sounding certain, hopeful, and unsettled all at the same time.

Root told you that she's always been different, that she's seen wrongs in this world and with humans. The world she saw was unlike the world kids around her saw. Instead of just wonder and amazement about everything unfolding before her eyes, she saw insecurities and imperfections. She saw the lies and deceit hidden underneath layers of sugar-coated truth and familiar, comfortable and entirely misleading expectations of beauty and order. You kinda get that. You're different. Growing up, you can't fathom a lot of things people direct at you. Feelings being on top of that list, and then there's niceties and politeness; there's also attachment and pain. All those things you know in theory but can't, for the life of you, understand, experience and appreciate. It's mostly just blanks and plain, sometimes only accentuated by anger.

But Root, she's fascinating, mysterious and persistently compelling. She possesses a beauty concealed in a secret that is wrapped up in riddles, deflections and vagaries. She is scarred in all the ways you cannot see. You're not allowed to see. And she's battered and bruised in all the ways you won't, and can't, know. And as awfully selfish as it sounds, you're disgustingly grateful to every person she's met and every place she's been for you know she would not be the same without her disappointing memories and experiences of them. You're grateful that whatever happened to her took her to a path that led to meeting you, even though that first meeting concluded with you tasered and zip tied to a chair no less. But even then, you know you're intrigued by this woman. And you hope having you by her side is worth going through all that loss and pain and heartbreak just as well as her monumental attempt at redeeming herself in the service of saving humankind.

You've come to realized that you've been scared a lot lately. Mostly scared that you've come to care about somebody who might've given up on caring about what you think. Scared that you both care about each other, just not at the same time. In your mind you can see her leaving all the time, and for a while you almost believed that she was avoiding you. Of course she always comes back, but never soon enough.

"We locked her up not just once Finch, maybe that's why she keeps on running away," you tell Harold when Root disappeared yesterday. She was asleep when you went out to help John with a number. You didn't know where she went or why she left.

"Do you think she's gotten anywhere, Ms. Shaw?" Harold asked. "Other than her death, that is?" There's an urgent quiver in his voice you can't place. Maybe it's panic or concern. _How many times will Root scare this man before she believes Harold really cares for her?_

She came back this morning with a plan. And a bunny keychain from Julia.

Tomorrow she's leaving to direct her team of nerds of an attack to lower Samaritan's defenses. You, Lionel and John each have your roles to fill to protect Harold while he uploads the virus that he and Root devised to totally compromise Samaritan's programming.

But tonight she's here. There's a part of you that wants to tell Root you miss her just because you can even when she's right here, lying in bed right beside you, but there's a greater part of you that longs for her for that very same reason. You're painfully aware that she's counting down the hours, the minutes, until she can leave the confines of this safe house, no doubt suffocating from your insistence that she eat something and Harold's firm "suggestion" that she still take a few days of rest to fully recover. "Surely Ms. Groves, the world will not stop if we postpone our attack for a few days. You've not completely healed," he said.

 "She says if we don't take this opening now, it might not present itself again," Root answered. "It's no risk, no reward, Harold. Besides, I can take care of myself," she added with a shrug.

Even John and Lionel expressed their concern for her which she's brushed off. It sounds like "I couldn't care less about myself" veiled in that ever sweet voice, saying "I've been through worse." "Always knew you have a soft spot for me," and "So sweet of you to pretend to care."

"Root," you silently call. She turns her head to look at you. "It bothers me that you're always getting hurt," you tell admitted honestly.

She reaches out to hold your wrist gently. "Well, don't worry, Sam. You know I always manage to come out on top," she says confidently. "Besides, I'm quite used to the pain," she says wiggling her eyebrows.

And now she's waiting for you to roll your eyes at her at the implied meaning behind that final remark, but instead of rolling your eyes you shift on the bed to lie on your stomach and just stare at her. Despite how frightening the next days seem, you can see so much of what you want to believe is affection shining in her eyes. It's mesmerizing. And she’s so beautiful. And you can't help but be drawn towards her until your lips are touching hers. The heat that spreads throughout your body is tantalizing in its intensity, and when she moves her hands to gather you on top of her, you can't help but want to press more firmly into her. There's an urgency in both your movements to unwrap each other, and as soon as you do, your hands cling on to her, touching her everywhere you can reach as you keep on kissing her. There's moaning, and gasping, and heavy breathing all around as you reluctantly pull away. And then she's pulling you closer again, kissing your neck and whispering "Sameen" in your ear, asking, pleading that you don't stop. And so with hearts racing and so much want and need inside you, you keep going, moving together as if you're supposed to be one instead of two. You push hard inside her and she retaliates by pushing just as hard. You press more firmly against her, wanting to bury yourself deep within as if staying with Root in this moment, with your body between hers and your mouth all over her, will permanently keep you with her; as if planting yourself inside her will magically sustain everything she knows about you, hoping she won't forget your touch and that she'll look forward to the next time you'll be together like this. You both come undone and it's intense, and even though you just finished, you can't help but feel excited for next time.

 _Maybe_ _there's time for another round_ , you mused.

You collect her in your arms as you lay back on your side of the bed. _We're not cuddling!_ There's a stirring inside you though that's honestly terrified to let go of Root. _What if I'll never feel this way again about anybody?_ There's a weight on your chest and you're still trying to catch your breath.

"Root," you call as you tighten your grip around her waist.

"Yeah?" she sounds like she's close to sleeping.

"Tomorrow," you begin, but nothing more comes next.

You hear her sigh and she turns her body so she can face you. She lifts her hand to cup your cheek. "Yeah, I know," she says silently, almost reverently. "I promise you I'll live through this, Sweetie. Unharmed."

 _Yeah, I really doubt that. You're a bullet magnet_.

You open your mouth to answer her, but you think she caught the look of protest in your eyes, so she adds. "You better do the same, Sameen."

"Yeah, I can handle that," you say as you place your hand on top of hers and turn your face to kiss her palm. "Just make sure you hold up your end of the deal."

"Absolutely," she says as she leans forward to kiss you.

Somehow you're confident you'll both live through this and neither of you will be disappointed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me a while to update. Been busy.
> 
> So, this is the end for now. Hope this conclusion somehow satisfies the story. I'm not sure yet if I can write some sort of sequel to this, but I think I have another concept that I might be able to turn into another story.
> 
> Anyway, I think I'll always miss the show and these awesome characters.
> 
> Thanks for following this story, everybody. Here's to wishing you all hopeful and wonderful days.


End file.
